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/ 


BLACK AND WHITE, 


— A NOVEL— 



E. A. MERIWETHER, 


A 


Author of “The Master of Eed Leaf,” “My First and Last Love,’ 
“Ku Klux Klan,” Etc. 


JUN 28 1883'/' 


/Tfr/flW- 


^ WASHING^ 


NEW YOKE : 

E. J. HALE & SON., 

Murray St. 

1883. 





COPYRIGHT 


BY E. A. MERIWETHER, 

1882. 


CONTENTS : 


Chapters. Page. 


I. — Introduces the Reader to two Important Characters 5 

II. — The Finisher Institute 15 

III. — The Young Lawyer— “A Speech is a Speech” 18 

IV. — The Christmas-Box. 27 

V. — Paying the Penalty 32 

VI.. .Upturns to the Finisher Institute and relates how the 

Christmas Feast did not turn out as anticipated 39 

VII.. .A meeting after six years 47 

VIII.. .The Three Students 60 

IX.. .Dolly’s mind becomes curious on a Philological Question 70 

X. . . Christmas-Day Dawned 83 

XI.. .Youth and beautty— Love and Logic 90 

XII.. .Theories and Experiments 97 

XIII. . .Mr. Arthur inspects the two Wealthy Women and Makes 

his Choice 103 

XIV. . .Dolly and the Locksmith 110 

XV. . . Mrs. Singleton’s Schemes 116 

XVI.. .Calyx and his Sister receive their Friends 120 

XVII.. .Love and Jealousy 127 

XVIII.. .The Island Girls are called Home— Mrs. Singleton is dis- 
appointed and Miss Mopson feels that she is per- 

cuted 130 

XIX.. .Ashford Isle 135 

XX.. .The Singletons 138 

XXI.. .How Roma’s letter was received by her Lover 144 

XXII. ..They gather together to read the Will, but no Willis 

found 147 

XXIII.. .The Objectionable Husband assumes the Mastership 156 

XXIV.. .The Singltons are grievously disappointed 164 

XXV.. .Which the Reader may skip if he does not like our Young 

People’s Vagaries 168 

XXVI.. .Dolly suggests a way to settle the Usurper 172 

XXVII.. .The Negro Auction comes off— The Ashcourt negroes in 

great tribulation 179 

XXVIII. . . Dolly to the Front 190 

XXIX. . .Mrs. Singleton makes Love to the gushing Widow for her 

Handsome Brother 203 

XXX. . .Is it Love or is it Fancy 209 

XXXI. . .Singleton visits the Island 217 

XXXII.. .An Interview at Last 237 

























































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Black; and White. 


CHAPTER I. 


INTRODUCES THE READER TO TWO IMPORTANT CHARACTERS WHICH 

ARE SEEN, HOWEVER, UNDER RATHER UNFAVORABLE CIRCUM- 
STANCES. 

Two officers of the police force, well buttoned up in their great 
coats, for the night was cold and the wind keen and cutting, bore 
the burden they were carrying into the station and dumped it 
down on the floor as if it were a sack of corn or potatoes. It was 
neither corn or potatoes but a woman that lay senseless just as 
she 1 ad fallen from their grasp— a large framed woman, grandly 
developed. The two men looked down on the full flushed face 
which doubtless had been handsome enough before vice had dis- 
colored and deformed it, had coarsened both complexion and 
contour. A stream of long fair hair loosed from its fastenings 
fell to the floor and spread itself out as if for exhibition, it was 
well worth exhibition, being abundant in quantity, bright in color 
and fine in texture. 

The little old man in a snuffy thread bare coat, with a worried 
face, who stood at a desk before an open ledger, turned a dull, 
abstracted eye on the new comers, said nothing, turned again to 
the figures on the page before him and went on with his work. 

One of the policemen, a short, thick-necked fellow, with the 
unmistakable marks of his master, drink, spread over his face r 
took off* his fur cap and mopped the top of his bald head as he 
glanced down at the woman whose weight had fatigued him. 
Hagan was the short man’s name. Prichett, his companion, was 
taller, younger, handsomer and not disfigured by drink. 

“She’s no baby” said Hagan, with gloomy ill temper, as he 
glowered on the senseless creature at his feet, “hang me if she 
did’nt take the wind out of me — the huzzy ! I’ve no patience 
with drinking women!” 

“Oh you did’nt have much to take, Hagan,” laughed Prich- 
ett, good humoredly, “put yourself on bread and water for a. 


8 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


“ Here I’ve been on the force going on ten year ” said Mr. Ha- 
gan aloud, looking to Podgers for sympathy, “an‘ my opinion 
goes for nothing, eh? Here’s Prichett, a new comer, you may 
say, not a year yet, an‘ he thinks he knows it all !” 

Mr. Prichett said he laid no claim to universal knowledge and 
admitted that Mr. Hagan must have a pretty good idea of drunk- 
enness, yet somehow he could’nthelp suspecting laudanum. 

“See for yourself, Podgers!” Interrupted Hagan, irritably,, 
taking another bite from the plug, “see for yourself, pull up the 
woman’s eye-lids, if you don’t find the signs of gin, my name’s not 
Bill Hagan, that’s all.” 

Prichett said he never meant to say the signs of gin would’nt be 
found in the woman’s eyes — he didn’t need to look at her eyes 
to see 'such signs, they were spread all over her face— what he 
meant to say was that for this particular spell he suspected lauda- 
num. 

Mr. Podgers, who always instinctively inclined to Hagan’s 
side, acted on his suggestion, again wiped his pen, stuck it behind 
his ear and again, with that owlish air of solemnity men of small 
mind and body are apt to put on to enhance their dignity, took up 
the lamp and held it so that it better illuminated the figure on the 
floor. Applying a stubby fore-finger and a stubbier thumb, Mr. 
Podgers lifted the woman’s left eye-lid and solemnly peered into 
the eye, then he lifted the right eye-lid and solemnly peered into 
that. Not deigning to speak of the discoveries he made or the 
signs he saw, Mr. Podger contented himself with a slight wave of 
his hand. 

“ Take her to the lock-up,” he said hoarsely and then went back 
to the figures and on with the wrestling. 

“ Come, Hagan, lend a hand” said Prichett, taking the woman 
by the shoulders, but before the flushed Mr. Hagan felt equal to 
the exertion he felt the necessity of refreshing himself with a 
pull at a flat bottle which he carried in his side pocket, after which 
invigorating proceedure, he seized the woman’s two ancles and the 
two men conveyed her out of the room into a narrow corridor il- 
luminated by a smoky lamp. At the far end of this corridor a 
door with a gratingin the upper part, opened into the lock-up used 
for the lodgement of women — women arrested for petty larceny, 
disorderly conduct, drunkenness and other misbehavior. The 
lockup was a large oblong apartment furnishedwith wooden ben- 
ches ranged around the wall. 

When the two policemen with their senseless burden entered this 
apartment it already contained a large number of unfor- 
tunate wretches incarcerated for one misdemeanor or an- 
other, mostly for drunkenness. Of this number only a very 
small proportion was sober. The greater number were more 
or less intoxicated, some lay sprawled on the floor in a drunken 
stupor, some sat on the benches in a semi- maudlin condition, 
some walked about with wild eyes wringing their wretched hands. 
Moans, groans and histerical cries filled the miserable place 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


9 


Vice ruled and reigned, yet all of these pitiable subjects of vice 
were of that sex we are in the habit of looking upon as better and 
purer than the stronger. In estimating the condition or qualities 
of a class the condition and quality of all should be considered. 
When speaking of the condition of women collectively, men make 
the mistake of not “counting in” the degraded classes, yet these 
•comprise no insignificant part of the whole, are an outgrowth of 
past and present institutions just as the better classes 
are. Not to consider the bad classes of the female sex is like 
the wisdom of the medical man who looks upon a cancer or an 
ulcer as something for which the whole system is not responsible. 
The philosophic physician knows that cancers and ulcers are 
caused by diseased blood, and that not one atom of blood is per- 
fectly pure, unless all and every part of the body is also sound and 
pure. The same principle holds in moral as in physical disease. 
The outcast class is the cancerous growth on the body politic. 
Laws may repress and restrain but until the source of the impurity 
is searched for, found and corrected, the growth will continue to 
crop out in unexpected places, just as the surgeon’s knife may 
cut off cancers but the whole body is not benefited thereby. 

The woman was dumped down on the floor in the lock-up just 
as she had been dumped on the floor in Mr. Podger’s office. As 
she fell she rolled on the outstretched feet of a big black-browed 
Irish woman who glared at the offender with scowling indignation 
and drew up her feet as if scalding water had touched them. Mrs. 
Floyd, for that was the big black-browed lady’s name, demanded 
of the men what they meant by tumbling drunk creeters like that 
in the lap of a “rispictible lady ?” 

A slim, wiry, neatly dressed negress, whose wool was almost 
concealed by the towering.turban she wore on her head, snap- 
pishly spoke up. “ Spectible ? wha’s any ‘spectible white lady 
‘bout dese diggings? De las‘ one 1 sees is de po’est sort o‘ white 
trash — de wery po’est sort.” 

The black’s name was Dolly. In some respects Dolly differed 
from the ordinary negro. She was alert, nimble, nervous as a 
monkey, quick and cunning, true to those she liked or loved, ut- 
terly conscienceless where she did not like or love. She was a 
full blooded negro but had not the flat nose or the extremely thick 
lips usually found in the full African, on the contrary her features 
were rather delicately cut ; her eyes small, black as beads and ex- 
ceedingly vivacious, the balls had a way of dancing from side to 
side. Dolly also had the pow r er of moving the muscles of her ears 
as horses do, backward and forward, greatly to the disgust and 
terror of the Irish lady, Mrs. Floyd. Mrs. Floyd and Dolly were 
neighbors but not friends ; they had been arrested for breaking 
the peace in one of their man}'' quarrels. Mrs. Flood hated and 
scorned the “ nasty nager,” and Dolly hated and scorned “low 
down Arish trash.” Mrs. Flood was the mistress of a small green 
grocery shop and Dolly was a free negro, living on a quarterly al- 
lowance made to her by her master, a rich planter in the South, 


10 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


in return for a signal service she had once rendered him. This: 
was their first experience of jail life. The Irish lady felt wounded; 
in the tenderest place, pride of character, the negress seemed to< 
forget her own misfortune in the spiteful joy she felt in her ene- 
my’s mortification. 

Mrs. Flood, deigning no reply to Dolly’s impertinence, directed 
her remarks to the policeman, whom she recognized as an ac- 
quaintance, and complained bitterly that the widow of “ a officer 
same as they was ” should be so mistreated. 

“ What on earth brought you here ?” asked Prichett, who knew 
her to be an orderly, well behaving, sober woman. 

“What brought me?” she cried, eager to ventilate her wrongs, 
pointing her large fore-finger at the slim, smiling Dolly, who, now 
that she saw the policeman, appeared as amiable as a May morn, 
“ what brought me ? its all long o' her, the devil’s own daughter,, 
I’m here. That’s what’ done it ! more disgrace to the perfession 
me husban' belonged to ! Shure an' shure !” 

“ Why, what have you been at, Dolly?” asked Mr. Prichett,. 
who had a street acquaintance with the negress and knew no harm 
of her. Dolly always showed her pleasing side to persons in 
power. 

“Law’s Mr. Prichett” said she, in the best of humors, “/ 
doesn’t do nuffen 't all, I’s de mose peacibul pusson you eber seed 
in yo' born days. Daris some pussons, do', Mr. Prichett, as is 
so quar in der ways dey’d quarll wid a suckin' dove — you knows 
dat , Mr. Prichett!” 

Dolly’s face being the very picture of innocent amiability both 
policemen at once jumped to the conclusion that the irascible 
Irish lady was all to blame. Mrs. Flood, who, a moment before 
the men came in, had been terrified and enraged by Dolly’s mock- 
ing movements, the curious grimaces of her features, the work- 
ings of her ears, the dancings and dartings of her wonderfully 
vivacious and viperish little eyes, was now aghast at the sudden 
change, at the power of deception possessed by this “daughter of 
the devil.” 

“ She’s the divil’s own daughter — the divil’s own daughter!” 
she cried in anger and affright, which, contrasting with Dolly’s 
calm and smiling face, still further damaged her case. 

“ Come ! come !” said Prichett, “neighbors shouldn’t fall out, 
it don’t pay, shake hands and make up and we’ll try and get you 
both off easy to-morrow.” 

“Law’s, Mr. Prichett, cries the pleasant Dolly, “ /’swillin' ter 
make up ! I ain’t been fall out yet, I ain’t got nuffin ’t all agin 
Miss Flood — Miss Flood’s a monsus nice ’ooman, / never sez 
nuffiin agin' Miss Flood in all my born days ; do' dey is some 
folks in dis wul' so quar, dey picks a quarP’fo' you knows what 

ey’s up to — you knows dat, Mr. Prichett.” And the negress 
gave one of her most amiable grins. 

The two men went out ; Dolty was another being. Setting her 
lean arms akimbo, craning put her turban ed head toward the 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


11 


darkly glowering and frightened Irish lady, she fixed her little 
beady black eyes upon her enemy — they seemed to dart flames — 
she pricked her ears forward and piped out in mocking derision. 

u Whyn’t you tell dem p’leecemen de trufe ? eh ? (poking out 
her turbaned head toward the enemy) whyn’t you speak out like 
a lady — eh? Whyn’t you tell ’em de sho‘ nuff‘ Gor o £ mighty’s 
trufe, what make sech as you always pickin‘ quarls wid‘ Dolly 
Charmon — eh, eh? (the black face and strange ears getting nearer 
and nearer to the aghast and disgusted white) whyn’t you up and 
tells ’em its beca’se Dolly Charmon b ’longs to de grande s‘ white 
folks in de state o‘ Souf Callina? an‘ she scawns, farly sections- 
(with intense energy) po £ Arish trash! shetromps ’em undah her 
foot in de dut o‘ de street — dats wo’t you mout a ’splained to 
dem p’leecemen ef you’d a‘ knowed how to tell de trufe — eh r 
eh, eh ?” 

With each of these “eh’s,” the black face poked out nearer ancl 
nearer to the white which shrank back as the other approached > 
afraid lest the black should be pressed up and flattened on the 
white. Cold chills ran down the Irish lady’s spinal column. 

“ Keep off! keep off’!” she shrieked jamming the back part of 
her head against the wall and raising her two hands to defend her 
face from the despised contact. 

Nothing more delighted Dolly than to witness this fright, it 
was a tribute to her power. 

“Highty-tighty! higledy-piggletyk’she sputtered out with grins, 
and grimaces. “You ’spec white ladies, wid dark complexions 
like dis chile’s, gwine to demean derselves techin der faces to- 
po’ Arish trash ? Git out nigger ! you don’t know quality folks 
when you see ’em.” 

Then she turned on her heel, fell back a few paces, and began 
a series of gyrations so mocking, menacing and derisive, as al- 
most to drive her antagonist wild. She twirled her lean body 
like a top, snapped her fingers in the air as she retreated, and 
advanced on her enemy, brought her little pointed black ears 
forward, and made her little black eyes dart such flames at the 
unfortunate Irish lady as made her ignominiously beat a retreat, 
turn her back to her tormentor, shut her eyes tightly, . and 
begin a crooning song to divert her mind from "Dolly’s deviltry. 
This was'preeisely what Dolly desired to effect; her object was 
two-fold, first, she enjoyed the enemy’s discomforture, secondly, 
she wished to avert the watchful eyes of that enemy from her own 
actions. 

When the two men dumped the woman down on the floor, one 
of them, Prichett, took from his pocket a small scarlet woolen 
shawl and threw it on the woman’s shoulders. Dolly’s eyes de- 
lighted in scarlet, and her soul coveted the shawl and from the first 
she had began to devise schemes to secure it. The eyes, of the 
sober Mrs. Flood were the only eyes, near by, in a condition to 
heed what occured. So the instant Dolly saw the Flood’s eyes 
turned to the wall, she whirled herself like a te-to-tum up to the 


12 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


senseless woman’s side, dived her lean arm down, seized the 
shawl, thrust it in her pocket, darted a glance around to see if any 
one noticed and, relieved on that point, dropped down to rest 
after her exerions ; a feeling of benign, and pious satisfaction 
warmed her teart. She drew up her knees, clasped them in her 
arms and began to gently sway herself back and forth, at the same 
time softly swinging with a low and melancholy cadence one of the 
old plantation songs. 

dolly’s song. 

i. 

De white man corned across de water, 

Long time ago. 

Oh ! den de tears run chasin' arter, 

Long time ago. 

n. 

De white man fotch us to de boat, 

Long time ago, 

He gin us all a bran new coat. 

Long time ago. 

iii. 

He fotch my mam, he fotch my dad, 

Long time ago, 

Oh ! den de baht grow berry sad, 

Longtime ago. 

IV. 

He fotch de son, he fotch de darter, 

Long time ago, 

An' den we coined across de water, 

Long time ago. 

The 'Tong time ago” became the mournfulest wail and added 
melancholy to the already melancholy scene. - The song ended, 
Dolly’s head began to droop and nod ; for a time she resisted the in- 
clination to sleep, jerking herself up and staring about, indignantly 
ready to repel any insinuation that she had fallen into the land of 
Nod. As no one ventured to make such insinuation — her enemy 
was slyly watching from the corner of her eye but took good care 
not to be caught — she would again succumb to the god of sleep, 
down would go the turbaned head, lower, lower, until a t last the 
equilibrium was lost and the whole body followed the head and 
Dolly tumbled to the floor, plump on the prostrate form of the 
woman. Picking herself up she rubbed her head, replaced her 
turban and stared around with intense indignation ; finding her- 
self not insulted by any observing eye, she quickly regained her 
serenity. For the first time her eyes rested on the face of the 
senseless woman, by whose side she was squatted ; a startled and 
puzzled look came into them as if she were trying to remember 
where she had seen and known that face. With a tender touch 
she lifted a tress of the long fair hair and bent her straining eyes 
upon it. After a long and anxious look a painful astonishment 
broke over her black face. 

“ It’s my po‘ honey — sho !” she murmured in tones of distress- 


BLA CK AND WHITE. 


13 


fill pity, “ Ef it ain’t my po 4 honey ! How did she come to clis — 
how on y earth did she Gome to dis? an 4 her pa so rich, wid his 
kerrige an 4 his hosses an 4 fine house. How eber did she come to 
dis yer straight? My po 4 , po 4 honey?” 

The Irish woman had not for a moment lost sight of her enemy’s 
movements. When she saw that the negress recognized the insen- 
sible woman she jumped to the conclusion that this was a speci- 
men of the “grand white folks” Dolly had so often boasted of as 
her friends and home people. Mrs. Flood felt great scorn and 
contempt for these friends and slyly chuckled over the thought 
that Dolly’s grand white friends should turn out to be drunken 
creatures brought in from the streets. The door of the lockup 
was again opened and another specimen of the gentler sex was 
brought in from the freezing streets. This last arrival was drop- 
ped on a bench where she sat blinking stupidly at the dull lamp 
that hung from the center of the ceiling; pretty soon the warmth 
of the room and the gin she had swallowed overcame her, her 
eyes closed and she also began to drop off into the land of Nod. 
Not able to maintain herself in that unstable domain she fell over 
and rolled to the floor on the long spread out hair of the woman 
whom Dolly called her “po 4 honey. “ Like a mad tigress the ne- 
gress jumped up and seized the offending party, her claw-like fin- 
gers clutching the coarse black hair, she tugged to get her away. 

“ Don 4 t you see 44 screamed'the negress as the drunken woman 
lay and stupidly blinked at her, 44 don 4 t you see, you po 4 low-flung 
Arish trash ! as you is makin 4 yo 4 se‘f ontily too free widyo 4 bet- 
ters ? Dis is a bawn lady, dis is ! tech her ag‘in ef you dars !” 

After getting the poor wretch away Dolly stood, triumphant and 
victorious, guard over the “bawn lady 44 her little eyes darting 
flames at the 44 Arish trash 44 which lay and blinked in happy in- 
sensibility. Mrs. Flood witnessed the scene and took heed of the 
epithet 44 born lady.” The desire to taunt her enemy got the bet- 
ter of her discretion. 

44 Born leddyV ’ she said, with high scorn, “so thims the leddies 
nagers brags about, eh? drunken drabs from the gutters, eh ?“ 

As a war steed starts at the sound of the trumpet, as a hound 
jumps to the inspiring music of the hunter’s horn so started Dolly 
at her enemy’s voice. With one bound she stood before her, 
every feature alive with rage. 

“Hi! yi ! hi! yi!“ she hissed between her clenched teeth, 
while her little viperish eyes, so instinct with venom, had they 
darted from their sockets in the form of fanged serpents the terri- 
fied Irish woman would hardly have been surprised. “ Hi ! yi ! 
hi ! yi ! yer wants lizards an 4 scorpins tu creep fru de meato 4 yo 4 
legs an 4 arms, eh? eh? and cat’pillars ter creep fru yer marrer 
bones an 4 up ’long yer back ? eh ? an 4 rats an 4 mice to make der 
nestes in yo 4 stomick an 4 ter breed derchilluns dar an 4 set ’em all 
ter nibblin 4 at yo 4 innards eh? is dat wot you wants? eh? an 4 
tree toads to hop roun 4 in dar, an 4 beetle bugs an 4 bumble bees? 
eh? an 4 ole Satan hisse’f to come at you in de dead o 4 de night 


14 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


wid his tail a switchin 4 ’roun‘ ’mong de cheers, de pots an‘ de 
pans a tarrin* de har‘ o‘ yo £ head out by de roots an‘ spittin, 
brimstone her in yo‘ eyes? eh? is dat wot you wants? Werry 
well ; dats wot you‘11 git fus you knows ! eh ? eh V 1 

Again the white face turned to the wall and shut its eyes, and 
Dolly again victorious returned to the born lady, by whose side 
she sat all through that dismal night, until the dawn of the dis- 
mal day. There was no sign of returning consciousness. 

“She mus’ a’ tuck somefin ’sides whisky,” said Dolly to her- 
self, gazing anxiously in the woman’s face. “She sholy mus a r 
tuck somefin, or she’d a come to hersef ’fore now.” 

Dolly grew anxious. She knew that at ten o’clock she and 
Mrs. Flood would be taken before a magistrate, possibly a fine 
would be imposed, in default of the fine she would be sent to the 
house of correction. This prospect did not suit Dolty. She was 
intensely anxious to remain with the woman and see her out of 
her trouble. She tried to arouse her; she rubbed her hands, her 
face, gently pounded her in the back, and called to her in affec- 
donate terms to “wake up, wake up and see her poor nig.” Not 
succeeding in rousing the sleeper, Dolly began to scheme to re- 
main with her, looking about in search of a hiding place. If she 
could only stow her slim black body away so as not to be seen 
when the others were called out, she would be left with the born 
lady. She walked slowly around. the room, looking thoughtfully 
at the benches, there being no other furniture. The idea of 
stretching herself straight out under one of the benches in the 
darkest part of the large room occurred to her, but she gave it 
up, seeing how easily she would be discovered, and thinking 
how her enemy would jeer at her failure. 

At ten o’clock the key rattled in the lock, and the door swung 
open on the inside The miserable women all made a rush to- 
ward the door as if freedom for them lay beyond it. They jam- 
med and pushed and elbowed each other in their efforts to be the 
first. Dolly was among them, close followed by the large Mrs. 
Flood, whose courage returned with day-light, and the prospect 
of release. She pushed Dolly aside, and got ahead by the force 
of bulk and strength. When Dolly was pushed on one side, she 
found herself against the door. A brilliant strategy darted into 
her little brain. She slipped her slim body behind the door, and 
the crowd of wretched women moved on and out. Dolly stood 
still and held her breath. 

“Any more of ye?” sang out the man at the door, putting his 
head in and looking about. Seeing no one but the woman on 
the floor, he went up to her, pushed her with his foot, and 
guessed she’d do for next day; then he went out and locked the 
door after him. Dolly stood still until the sound of the depart- 
ing feet died out, then she sprung forward, jumped up and hit 
her heels together in an ecstasy of triumph. 

“I’s got de inside track on you dis time!” she said, sobering 
down a little, - “an’ I’s got de inside track on dat po’ Arish trash 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


15 


of a groc’y ’oman. When she rolls her glum eyes, when she gets* 
afo’ de magistrate, an’ no Dolly dar, wont she wonder if de 
debil hissef is come to help Dolly out? Lor’! Lor’!” 

Put into quite a comfortable frame of mind by these pleasant 
reflections, Dolly curled herself up in a ball close by the side of 
the sleeping woman and delivered herself up to the arms of 
Morpheus. 


CHAPTER II. 

THE FINISHER INSTITUTE. 

On the evening of the same day that saw Dolly asleep in the 
lockup, the mistress of that fashionable finishing school for 
young ladies, arrayed in her most fashionable robes, with her 
three assistant teachers by her side, also in their most fashiona- 
ble robes, went down the hall stairway, and sailed into the par- 
lor; (all the chairs and stools and sofas of which also were out in 
their best attire,) and took their stand at the head of the room,, 
for it was receiving day. Receiving day was a grand day; it 
came once a month. The ceremonies were imposing and im- 
proving. First of all, every one in the institute had to put on 
her best bib and tucker, then the three lady teachers, led by the* 
mistress of the house, took their stand in the parlor, and re- 
ceived the young ladies as they were announced by Kitty, the 
red-olieeked chambermaid, who played the part of grand cham- 
berlain. After the teachers had received one or two young ladies, 
they, the teachers, retired to a sofa and sat in grand state, two^ 
girls being deputed to play the part of hostess, and receive ten 
or twelve other girls who played the part of visitors; then the- 
lady hostesses were relieved by other two, appointed to play- 
hostesses, and so it went on until the whole school had been re- 
ceived. 

Mrs. Finisher possessed one of those elegant frames on which 
silks, satins and velvets were displayed to great advantage. The 
bony part of her system rather out did the fleshy; wrists, cheeks, 
neck and teeth gave one the impression that bone composed the 
largest part of her being. Two of the assistant teachers were 
sisters, the Misses Stiggens, little demure old maids, looking for 
all the world like twins. Both wore spectacles for shortness of 
sight; both reminded one of brown, leaves in autumn; both meta- 
phorically speaking were always in a state of prostration before 
the elegance and airs of the lady of the institute; both kept their 
lips firmly puckered up as if afraid some word might imprudent- 
ly make its escape. Miss Scott, the third teacher, was short, fat 
and wheezy. Miss Charlmonte had once remarked that she al- 
ways felt uneasy lest Miss Scott should some day burst through, 
her corset and overflow the room. 


16 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


“Miss Roma Charlmonte,” sang out the cheerful Kitty, as a 
tall slender girl, with dark eyes and complexion entered the 
parlor. Advancing toward the four teachers, she swept a cour- 
tesy which Mrs. Finisher was pleased to compliment as a happy 
blending of grace and dignity. 

The drawback to the worth of this compliment lay in the fact, 
as one of the school girls had long ago discovered, that Miss Char- 
lemonte was an heiress, and of course everything she did was 
pretty and proper.. 

“Miss Constance Ashford” was the next announcement. The 
beauty of this girl was remarkable. The lily was no fairer; her 
eyes were violet in color, tender in expression; her hair bright 
and abundant. She also swept a pretty courtesy which well 
pleased her instructress. 

It now became the duty of these two young ladies to play 
hostess. The four teachers betook themselves to the sofa to ob- 
serve, criticise and correct. The two young ladies took their 
places at the head of the room. 

“Miss Teresa Olivia Wedrington,” sang out Kitty in a loud 
voice. Miss Wedrington stepped up with a stately dignity; She 
was an American Senator’s only daughter, consequently felt that 
she belonged to a superior class. It is well understood in this 
so-called Republic that any political office bestows a sort of 
patent of nobility on the fortunate possessor. Office holders 
rank ordinary mortals. 

Mrs. Finisher was not satisfied with Miss Wedrington ’s man- 
ner. She rose to show how it should be done. 

“A little too stiff, my dear,” she said, “dignity becomes your 
style, yet a trifle less would better become your years. Please 
observe and imitate me.” 

So saying, Mrs. Finisher sailed to the door. Kitty called out: 
“Mrs. Finisher, of the Finisher Institute.” Mrs. Finisher sailed 
up, in a stately, yet juvenile manner, swept a courtesy, showed 
all her teeth, and resumed her seat with a satisfied conscience, 
and watched Miss Wedrington’s second effort. 

“That is better,” exhibiting all her gleaming teeth. “That is 
much better. That is very much better indeed.” 

Miss Wedrington passed on to the rear and stood disdainfully 
looking at the others as they came in one by one. 

“Miss Rosa Amelia Bickford,” was the next announcement. 
Miss Rosa Amelia was a pretty little pink and white creature, 
who had a pretty habit of blushing and casting down her lids, as 
if a lover were fixing upon her his impassioned eyes. Roseate 
and sweet she dropped her pretty courtesy and passed on. 

“Miss Melissa Mopson,”was the next in order. Miss Mopson 
was a sad-eyed young lady, with a little pug nose set in the mid- 
dle of a little pug face. She was very sentimental, devoured ro- 
mances in secret, and cried over the woes of the “Children of the 
Abbey,” “Charlotte Temple,” “Alonza and Melissa,” etc., 
ilie latter heroine she had been named after. Mrs. Finisher was 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


IT 


by no means pleased with Miss Mopson’ s courtesy. 

“A little more animation, if you please,” she said, with severe 
dignity. “If I am not mistaken, Miss Mopson, you merited and 
received the same reproof at our last reception. I must beg you, 
Miss Mopson, to practice a little more cheerfulness. Ladies in 
society, as your aunt will tell you, Miss Mopson, should sedu- 
lously avoid the tomb-stone style. You will be so good, Miss 
Mopson, as to do it again, and put on a little more cheerfulness, 
if you please.” 

Miss Mopson burst into tears, she was wounded in the ten- 
dered spot. Of course she was ordered to her room. 

“Miss Sophia Smidge” was Kitty’s next announcement, at the 
same time giving a shove forward with her red, stumpy hand to 
a giggling young lady who held one hand over her mouth as if 
afraid her teeth would jump out. Miss Smidge advanced with a 
bound and a jump, bobbed down and bobbed up and then clap- 
ped both hands over her mouth and gurgled and giggled with the 
highest enjoyment. Mrs. Finisher’s face grew dark. 

“ Miss. Smidge ’’she said, with icy dignity, “be so good as to 
remember that the drawing room is not the place for animal per- 
formances. This Institute proposes to finish off' young ladies of 
the highest families in the land ; not to train wild animals. Miss 
Scott be so good as to show Miss Smidge how to enter a room and 
greet her hostess. ”* 

It there was anything painful to Miss Scott it was the exercise 
required of her ; she was fat, short and wheezy, graceful bends 
were out of the question, yet she went through the performance 
with scrupulous care and painstaking duty and emerged panting 
and red in the face. Miss Smidge was ordered to imitate her 
preceptress but was so overcome with giggles and gurgles that she 
was sternly ordered to her room to practice before the glass for 
one hour. Miss Smidge, head tucked down, both hands to her 
mouth to hold in the irrepressible gurgles and giggles, scampered 
out off the room in a very convulsion of mirth. Mrs. Fin- 
isher’s sense of dignity was still further outraged by explosive 
sounds of laughter that came from the hall as the young lady 
scampered through it. 

The ceremony of reception over, the ladies rested from their la- 
bor, chatted together with stately formality until the tea bell 
rung, then the whole bevy trooped out and down the stairway 
which led to the supper room, and such a twittering and fluttering 
and whispering and chattering as began, after the formalities of the 
affair were over, was never before heard outside of a school room. 
School discipline was suspended for one week, every girl plumed 
her wings in gay expectancy of freedom for seven days — seven 
days no figures to dull their young eyes, no piano keys to tire 
their young fingers, no recitations to dread. 

In the midst of the buzzing at the tea table the lady at the head 
of the table gave several sharp raps to silence the noises. Every 
one of the sixty-four young eyes were turned upon her. 


18 


BLACK AND WHITE, 


“ At-ten-Tion ! young ladies !” 

A dead silence fell on the house. Then Mrs. Finisher informed 
them that certain boxes, the contents of which were unknown to 
her, had arrived for certain young ladies and she would proceed 
and read out the names of the fortunate girls. 

The buzz and chatter was greater than ever. 

“I shall think my mama very mean if she has not sent me a 
box, “said Miss Rosa Amelia, with a pretty little pout. She had 
been notified that she would not be neglected. 

“My papa in the Senate has no time to think of boxes,” «aid 
Miss Wedrington, with great disdain. Miss Wedrington had no 
hope of being remembered. 

Miss Smidge said she did’nt look for any goodies, she expected 
do go home for her goodies. Mrs. Finisher held a slip of paper in 
her hand and read out the names of the receivers. Among them 
were the names of Miss Charlemonte and Miss Ashford. When 
the list was ended, the cousins held a whispering, conference, 
and then Miss Charlomonte asked permission to speak. She 
wished to invite the girls of their class to come and eat of the 
good things in their box on the next evening, as some of the girls 
expected to leave the institute the day after. Permission was 
given and the class invited on the spot. Then there was a buzz 
and a flutter as of a flock of birds, and the y%ung girls ran or 
.scampered or glided up stairs to their own rooms. 


CHAPTER III. 

THE YOUNG LAWYER— “ A SPEECH AS IS A SPEECH.” 

It was past twelve o’clock when Dolly awoke. She rubbed her 
•eyes and looked about a little confused, but pretty soon her sen- 
ses returning, she stared around in search of the woman by 
whose side she had gone to sleep. In the furthest corner of 
the room, her head propped up between her two hands, elbows 
on her knees, sat the object of her anxiety. 

Dolly went up and laid a hand on her shoulder. 

“Is you feelin’ any better, Miss Silla?” she asked, in that 
coaxing tone negroes use with children they love. 

The woman looked up, but not immediately recognizing the 
negress, dropped her eyes and made no answer. Dolly was 
shocked. That she was not recognized, struck her as a very 
dangerous symptom. 

“Lor’ ! Lor’ !” she groaned, dropping down on the bench by 
the woman’s side. “What hev come to de po‘ chile ! What on 
y earth have come to her ?” 

Then she made another effort. 

“Don’t you members Dolly, Miss Silla? Dolly, as usent ter 
comb yo‘ pretty h’ar ? Dolly as went home wid yo‘ ma from 
de White Suffer Springs o‘ ole Firginny? Lor‘ ! I knowed you 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


19 


Hiss Silla, de fust minute I lay eyes on yo‘ pretty lia’r. You 
holes your own monses well, honey, you do, dough you is 
sorter growed up sence I lived wid you 1 ma. You was a slim 
slip of a gal den.” 

This last was intended as a delicate compliment. Dolly was 
in truth much shocked by the great and disagreeable change that 
had come over her old acquaintance. The coarsened skin, the 
bloated face, the trembled eyes, alb told too plainly of the bad 
life the woman had lived. Even while telling the kind-hearted 
story, the tears of pity trickled from the negress’ eyes. The 
white woman had gone too far for tears. There comes a time in 
the life of wrecked women, w r hen, should they weep, not water, 
but molten lead would flow, such at least was the thought of the 
white woman as she looked at the black’s ready drops. 

“Don’t you members me, Miss Silla ?“ again asked the negress 
with pathetic anxiety. 

The woman admitted she did by a nod of her head — this en- 
couraged Dolly. 

“I’s dat sorry for to see yo’ in dis yer fix, Miss Silla, der 
ain’t nuffin as ole Dolly wouldn’ do for ter git yo’ outen dis low 
down hole.” 

She waited for some word in reply, none came and she re- 
sumed. 

“Miss Silla, honey, tell me dis, jes tell me dis, wot’s come o’ 
yo’ ma an’ yo’ pa? an\de fine house dey used to lib in, an’ all 
de silks an satins suit’ble for bawn ladies as yo is, honey?” 

The woman lifted her eyes, a dull wretchedness in them. 

“Don’t,” she murmured, “I can’t bear to hear of all that. A 
thousand years lie between me and all that.” 

Then, after a pause, in a more quiet tone, she said, 

“There is no lady here, Dolly — all that has gone — there is no 
lady, unless it be you, Dolly.” 

“Lor’, honey,’, returned the negress, beginning to be afraid 
her companion’s mind was upset, for she did not exactly under- 
stand her meaning, “You’s on’y pokin’ fun at dis po’ nig; you is 
de sho-nuff-reg’lar-bawn lady of dis Nawven country, same as 
Miss Roma Charmon and Miss Carry Ashfud is de sho-nuff-reg’- 
lar-bawn lady of ole Souf Callina, an’ dis chile is nuffin mo’ ’n a 
po’ nigger wid white folks — fus’ quality folks’ ways — dat’s de 
way hit is, Miss Silla.” 

To this pleasing little essay her companion made no response, 
before it was concluded she had dropped back in her 
. sunken and dejected attitude. Dolly availing herself of the op- 
oprtunity to take note of the white woman’s apparel, the disrep- 
utable condition of which caused Dolly much distress of mind. 
The dress was of silk, but was fearfully abused, the skirts were 
draggled and torn, the shoes worn and muddy, the head bonnet- 
less, and the hair disordered. To be bareheaded upon the street 
Dolly looked upon as an unpardonable breach of propriety. She 
at once threw the blame on the policemen. 


20 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


“Dem dar oudacious p’licemen mus’ a stole Miss Silla’s bon- 
net,” she muttered to herself. “I knows dey did, Miss Silla 
neber corned out on de street widout no bonnet on her head.” 

A long silence ensued which was at length broken by the 
black. 

“Was you took up, honey, for bein’ — a little floored, eh?” 

‘‘Floored” Dolly thought a more delicate word than drunk, 
and less wounding to the pride, but her companion had long 
since past all pride. 

“No,” she replied with a groan, “No, it was not whiskey, 
Dolly, it was laudanum this time.” 

u Lau — num /” cried the ready black. “Lor’, honey, I knowed 
it want whiskey (Yet, until that instant she had believed that 
whiskey was at the bottom of her trouble). Didn’ I tell that 
good-for-nothing p’liceman as I knowed it wa’nt whiskey, nor 
yet gin, nor brandy ? I said from de fus’ go as it wax launum 
for to kill de pains ob toof ache. Lor’, I knowed dat 

“No, no, It was not the pain of a toothache, it was the pain of 
life — the pain of life, I wanted to kill.” 

Although Dolly did not exactly comprehend the meaning of 
this anguished moan, she caught at the idea that lauda- 
num, and not whiskey, had been drunk. She knew that to take 
by accident an over dose of laudanum was a lighter offense than 
taking an over dose of whiskey. She saw in the laudanum a 
plea for freedom. 

“Dar won’t be i\o trouble den, honey,” she said cheerfully, 
“’bout gittin’ yo outen dis lojv-down place, der ain’t no law for 
to jek a ooman up for takin‘ a little lau’uum when she’s got de 
toof ache, don’t you be no ways oneasy, Miss Silla, you’ll pull 
fro all right, sho ” 

Dolly’s affectionate interest so far gained on the white woman 
as to draw from her a few questions concerning Dolly‘s own af- 
fairs. For what had she been taken up and how long did she 
expect to stay in ? 

“De good Lawd on’y knows, Miss Silla,” replied Dolly, in an 
injured tone, yet inwardly delighted at diverting the white wo- 
man’s thoughts even for a moment, from her own troubles. “De 
good Lawd on’y knows how long dem oudacious p’licemen gwine 
ter keep me yer, and de Lawd hisself knows der wa’nt no ‘ca- 
sion for ter jek me up an’ fotch me yer in de fus place, but 
dem oudacious p’licemen, dey gwine dojes as much meanness as 
dey kin do, dey hain’t got no mo’ conscience dan a yellow suck- 
egg dog, dey ain’t dat.” 

“Have you money, Dolly, to help you out?” asked the white 
woman. 

Dolly broke out into a jovial grin. 

“Nary red cent, Miss Silla, I’s plum* busted up sho ! You 
members how hit used to was, honey ? Well, hit’s jes dat 
same way now. Mars Ed’rd, he gins me my qua’tly ’lowance 
reglar jes de same, an‘ I gits fro wid it jes the same, fo‘ de time 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


21 


comes roun’ for de nex’ paymen’, so you see, honey, how hit is, 
sometimes I has lots o‘ money, den agin I haint nary red, an‘ 
dats de way now.” 

Then the white woman drew from some secret recess in her 
garments, a small parcel tied in paper, unfolding this, two small 
articles of jewelry were exposed, one was a ring with a stone in 
it, the other was a small medallion set with small pearls. Dolly’s 
eyes glistened, she knew the value of diamonds and received 
the ring with a radiant face. 

“Lor 4 , honey!” she cried, “dis’ll fetch ’em — dis’ll fetch ’em, 
sho!” . 

Stationing herself at the door, the upper part of which was 
grated, she hailed the first passer-by, made known that she 
wanted a lawyer sent to her, and in the course of half an hour 
she had the satisfaction of receiving a card through the bars of 
the prison, presented by a young man on the other side. 

“Blackstone Coke Sharpe, Attorney at Law,” was the informa- 
tion the card was intended to convey, but did not to Dolly, as 
she did not know how to read. She twirled the pasteboard in 
her hand and bent her little black, dancing eyes on the face 
across the iron bars. It was a broad, coarse-featured face, with 
bold, merry black eyes and the largest sized mouth. A shock of 
long and coarse black hair stood upon his head. 

Is you de lawyer we sent for !” asked Dolly rather dubiously. 
It struck her that the individual before her was not old enough 
to be very “high up in de law.” 

The young man said he was; he was the sort of a lawyer that 
got pecple out of bad scrapes, and he was ready to get her out 
of a bad scrape if she was ready with the fee, the wheels of law 
never turned unless greased by silver or gold. 

Dolly resented this and mounted her high horse of dignity. 

“You takes us for po’ white folks?” she cried indignantly. 
“We ain’t none o’ yo’ trundle-bed trash, I tell you we ain’t, an 7 
we don’t want none o’ yo’ trundle-bed-trash- law nuther — we 
wants fust-quality law — fust-quality law, fust-quality pay — dat’s 
de kind o’ ha’r pins we is.” 

The young man’s bold, black eyes laughed goodnaturedly as 
he said something to appease the black’s anger, after which they 
came to an amicable understanding. Dolly explained the laud- 
anum business on the hypothesis of the toothache, declaring 
that the white lady was the “berry fust in de lan’, de berry 
fust.” She gave him the ring and told him to convert it into 
money and take his fee out of it, and be sufe and buy Miss Silla 
a bonnet, as “dem dah onconscionable p’licemen had stealed 
Miss Silla’s bonnet, else lef’ it in de street, too mean an’ lazy to 
pick it up. 

Preliminaries settled the young lawyer departed with the ring, 
highly elated at the prospect of a fee. 

Blackstone Coke Sharpe, the son of Solomon Sharpe, Esq., of 
Canaan Four Corners, was looked upon as a very promising 


22 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


young lawyer, he himself indulged dreams of the Presidential 
chair, and only waited to get his foot planted on the first rung of 
the ladder reaching up to fame, after which he had not the 
slightest doubt but that he would continue to climb until he got 
to the topmost round . Why shouldn’t he climb as 
well as another ? Every American boy is stimulated to aim at 
the Presidency, is told as soon as he gets into his first breeches, 
that the White House is open to his ambition, perhaps this has 
something to do with the army of office seekers that overrun the 
country. 

Another night came on, another batch of miserable female 
mortality moaned, and groaned, and snored, and broke into 
drunken sobs, and swore drunken oaths, as on the first night, 
but Dolly was not so forlorn as on the first. She and the white 
woman sat together and gave each other such poor comfort as 
they could. 

“Is dis yo’s?” asked the negress, drawing the little shawl 
from her pocket. 

The white woman said it was. 

“Zackly what I ’spicioned,” said Dolly complacently. “De 
fus* minit I sot eyes on dat shawl I s’picioned as how it was yo’ 
shawl, becase I seed dat ar po’ Arish ooman pick it up from 
whar you was layin’ so soun’ sleep, an’ I jes snatch it outen her 
ban’ becase I ’spicioned it was yo’s.” 

Dolly carefully pinned the shawl around her companion’s 
shoulders and followed the crowd to the magistrate’s office. As 
they went in Dolly saw the young lawyer coming up side by side 
with his old friend, Mr. Huntitem, the rising young journalist. 
Sharp and Huntitem both tried to pierce through the thick brown 
veil which covered the white woman’s face. Sharp brought an 
armful of law books and placed them with imposing dignity on 
the table in full view of the “Court” and the people. The white 
and the black woman were given seats, the young lawyer sat 
down by the side of the former and wanted to talk over the case. 

“We must plant ourselves on the proud pinnacle of perfect and 
injured innocence,” said the young man in a low tone, his bold 
black eyes vainly trying to pierce through the veil to the features 
it concealed. “We must stand as a stone statue on the pedestal 
of purity — which will fetch us out all right.” 

It may be noticed that the strong feature of Mr. Sharp’s ora- 
tory was his rich and liberal use of alliteration, of which, how- 
over, at that moment his white client had not the proper appre- 
ciation. She made no answer, only bowed her head. Dolly 
made amends. Dolly was generous in praise. 

“Dat’s it, Mr. Lawyer,” she said, nodding her turbaned head 
&s she reached around the white woman to get a good view of the 
young promising. “Dat’s de way to fetch ’em. Miss Silly’s 
jes as innocent as ary sucking dove you eber see in all yo’ ba'wn 
days. Ain’t I knowedMiss Silla sence she wa’nt no more’n so 
high? (holding her hand about three feet from the floor) You 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


23 


hits de nail on de head when you comes to dat ar in'scence, you 
does for a fac." 

“If they don't mind," said the young lawyer, knitting his 
brows wdthan air of stern and desperate resolve, "if they don't 
take most particular'good care, I'll cross the Rubicon, I'll carry 
the war into Africa — I'll arraign the higher powers, I'll put the 
government of this city on the defensive — damages, my dear 
madam, damages for unlawful imprisonment, eh ? Huntitem, 
won't that fetch 'em." 

Huntitem stopped sucking the stump of an unlighted cigar 
long enough to signify that he thought that would make things 
howl. 

The first case was Dick Dodgers, poor old Dick Dodgers, found 
drunk on the street, fined a V. There he stood a miserable 
mockery of a man, shaky in "the knees, blear-eyed, dirty, ragged, 
he was an old, old offender, on an average, up once or twice a 
month. For the last twenty years he had never been known 
to do a hand’s turn at any sort of work, he was fed and housed 
and clothed by his daughter, an over-worked needle woman, who 
from daylight until dark and on until midnight by the light of a 
tallow candle stitched and stitched to keep herself and him in 
bread. How did this miserable creature get the stuff to make 
himself drunk ? This was a question his drudging daughter had 
asked a hundred times. She never gave him a cent; he never 
worked for a cent, yet the fact remained that he managed in some 
way to get the whiskey or the gin and get drunk, almost every 
day, and if his daughter could not manage to get hold of him in 
time, his drunk generally cost her all the dimes she could earn 
and save up in two months. She paid the fine and went out, the 
shaky old thing staggering after her. 

The next case was Mr. Gaff’s, charged with wife-beating. Mr. 
Gaff was a fair specimen of the average American sovereign after 
he has started on the downward road to ruin, and has not got 
quite so far as old Dodger. Gaff was a harness-maker by trade, 
a good workman when sober, but the sober spells grew fewer and 
shorter and the drunken spells longer and more frequent ; he 
was a big, brawny fellow with a broad drink-inflamed face and 
an angry eye. Stimulants went straight to his combative bumps 
and set them to kicking up rows, especially in his own house. 
His wife was a hard-working woman, but she often lost patience 
and talked and scolded when her husband came home drunk and 
penniless, and so too often stirred him up to blows. Mrs. Gaff 
never complained of her husband, on the contrary, she always 
tried to shield him from the law’s punishment. The only wit- 
ness against Gaff, was a little sharp-eyed sewing woman, who 
looked almost as sharp as one of her own needles. She testified that 
just about dark she had heard somebody stumbling up the stairs. 
She looked out and saw Gaff, he went in where his wife was. 
Mrs. Gaff had just come home from a day’s washing, had earned 
fifty cents, spent twenty-five for the family supper, and had 


24 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


twenty-five left. Gaff wanted this silver quarter to buy drink, 
his wife refused, he cursed her and swore he would have it. A 
struggle ensued, Mrs. Gaff put the money in her mouth, then 
Gaff beat and choked her to make her give it up. At this point 
the little needle woman called a policeman. s 

“You needn’t be giving me any of your grumpish looks, Jim- 
my Gaff,” said the little needle woman, catching the ill-temper- 
ed gaze fixed upon her. 11 1 ain’t your wife, thank heaven ! You 
can’t beat me , Jimmy Gaff.” 

“She’s a liar,” roared Gaff, purple with rage and drink, “she’s 
a lying mischief-making jade, as my wife kno^s.” 

Mrs. Gaff was called and testified that she and her man some- 
times had words, he was a little cross when in liquor, she hoped 
his honor would not be hard upon him. 

The Roman’s eyes were bunged and her cheeks bruised black 
and blue by her husband’s effort to tear the money from her 
mouth. 

Old Dick Dodger and Jimmy Gaff both belonged to that grand 
sex which calls itself the “protectors” of the weaker. Gaff was 
let off with a reprimand. He walked out in high feather, casting 
a devilish look of triumph on the little sharp needle woman. 
Mr. Huntitem made a pathetic paragraph for the columns of the 
paper he represented, showing woman’s beautiful devotion to her 
“protector,” even though choked and bunged and generally 
raked over the coals by him. 

“Devotion? Fiddlesticks !” was the disrespectful comment of 
the little needle woman. “It’s no more devotion than it’s the 
cat’s foot ! It’s skeer, downright skeer. She’s afeerd her mas- 
ter’ll use her rougher’n ever when he gits out — that’s the sort 
of devotion that makes Mrs. Gaff lie to keep the blackguard 
out o’ prison.” 

The three little Gaff children, clinging to their mother’s skirts 
trotted out with the devoted pair and went back to their drink- 
ruined home. 

The case of the white woman was called — name unknown. 

“What’s the charge ?” asked the tired looking magistrate. 

“Drunk on the street,” said Mr. Hagan, after first relieving 
his mouth of its cargo of tobacco juice. 

Mr. Blackstone Coke Sharpe sprang to his feet, his bold black 
eyes flashed fire. 

“I except to that, your honor !” he yelled out, with the lungs 
of a bull, at the same time glaring fiercely at the astonished 
policeman. The sleepy old court waked itself up and pricked 
up its ears. 

“May it please your honor,” continued the young lawyer,, 
pushing up to the front and laying his right hand on one of*the 
open law books he had brought, “may it please your honoe 
there has been a great, a grievous, a grand and awful mistaken 
I will not now point out the guilty man, I will not stop to expose 
his base and selfish purposes, I will only assert in the face of 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


25 


scandal and falsehood(glaring savagely at Hagan)that my fair cli- 
ent, one of the most refined and elegant ladies of this or of any other 
city, has never sinned against the laws of man or God, I say, your 
honor, my client has been wilfully and falsely, maliciously and 
feloniously accused of, great heavens — drunkenness ! What are 
the facts? I ask your honor to look at the facts! Sir, with 
pride, with great and commendable pride, I point to my 
client — one of the first ladies in the land. I am honored with 
her confidence — proud that she reposes confidence in my strong 
arm to defend her from the malicious aspirations of her foes — 
her foes did I say ? The foes of all womanhood. What man 
with the feelings of manhood in his breast, will not interpose 
his shield in her defence ? will not raise his arm and his voice 
in her defence? Your honor, we are prepared to prove, beyond 
the shadow of a dou^t, that my fair client is not only stainless 
as the snow on the mountain peak, is utterly innocent of this 
vile charge, hut that she does not and never has known the taste 
of that which stealeth away the brains of man, that charge, sir 
trumped up by a reckless offical, to hide his own negligence (a 
withering look at Hagan) — negligence in not sending for the 
proper medical authorities to treat a case of overdose of laudan- 
um, swallowed in haste under the agony of an excrutiating 
toothache. This, sir, is the sum of her offence — this and noth- 
ing more, for this her fair name is tarnished by slanderous in- 
ventions, (another glance at the dumbfounded Hagan). 

“ ‘Who steals my purse, steals trash, 

But the man who filches me of my good name, 

Is twenty times a thief. I appeal to youx honor for justice — 
justice, though the heavens fall ! I appeal to a generous Ameri- 
can public (great applause, even the poor wretches waiting their 
trials, felt themselves part of the American public and joined in 
the applause) I say to this large-hearted American public (more 
applause) Justice ! Justice ! (here a sudden letting down of the 
arms and voice of the young orator.) Your honor, I ask that 
my fair client be honorably acquitted.” 

The magistrate w T as puzzled — this sudden and stentorian out- 
burst had waked him up— he looked inquiringly at Mr. Hagan, 
whose face was gloomy and grum enough, he could not under- 
stand, and begun to fear he had arrested some lady of good 
family. 

“I thought the lady was drunk,” he growled, in self defence. 

“You thought !” thundered the young orator, turning on the 
unfortunate policeman with overwhelming power, his bold, 
black eyes gleaming wrathfully. 

“You thought. Your honor I except to that; I claim the 
protection of 1 this court for my fair client; I appeal to Your 
Honor in behalf of my fair client. Has that man (pointing the 
finger of scorn at the wretched Hagan) that man the right to think 
away the character of a refined, noble, elegant lady of this or any 


26 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


other city ? Your Honor I claim the right to cross question this 
swift witness. ” 

“ Certainly, if you wish,” said the confused magistrate, “ Come 
forward, Mr. Hagan, and state what you know.” 

The unfortunate policeman slunk up looking very like a whip- 
ped yet angry bear, he now felt certain that he had arrested some 
woman of a rich and influential family. The young lawyer 
glared at him in a way to increase his fears and confuse his 
ideas. 

“Be so good, sir, first of all, to inform the court what your 
name is — your real name ? No aliases will do here, let me tell 
you. We want your true name and no other.” 

This was put in such a way as to create the impression on 
every mind that the policeman had been sailing under false 
colors, and had about a dozen aliases on hand, which so confused 
and enraged poor Hagan he could not speak ; he stuttered indis- 
tinctly, and stared guiltily. Taking advantage of this, the young 
lawyer smiled a wicked smile at* the by-standers, as much as to 
say, “You see how I’ve caught him !” and with dark sternness, 
said : 

“No subterfuge, sir! no evasion! We want your name — the 
true name you got from your father, if you hav’nt forgot it. 
Speak out, sir ! this court has no time to wait. Your name, sir !” 

“Bill Hagan! and be damned to you!”blurted out the badgered 
officer, growing apoplectic in the face. “Every fool in this 
world knows my name.” 

“Hagan ! Very well, sir ; Hagan let it be. Never mind what 
the* fools know, this court, sir, wants as little to do with fools as 
possible.” 

Mr. Hagan eyed the young lawyer like an angry bear, tethered 
to a post which he knew he could not leave. 

“Now, Mr. Hagan, ’’began the young attorney, turning back his 
sleeve cuffs, as if getting ready for the tug of war, “are you pre- 
pared to testify on oath that my client was drunk when she fell 
fainting on the street, while returning from the doctor’s office, to 
which she had gone to have a tooth extracted? Yes or no? 
Speak out, sir ! Yes or no ! Remember the penalty for perjury — 
on oath, sir. Drunk was she?” 

Hagan wanted to explain. He was cut short. 

“No dodging,” cried the lawyer fiercely, eyeing the witness. 
“Face it like a man. Can you swear the lady was drunk?” 
Dodging wont do here, Mr. Hagan; this court demands a cate- 
gorical answer. Will you kiss the bible and swear that my fair 
client had not fainted from pain? Yes or no, Mr. Hagan? 
Answer on your conscience as to your God, Mr. Hagan. Will 
you swear ?” 

“I’ll be d — d if I do,” blurted out the enraged Hagan. 

“That will do, sir; your honor, that is sufficient. This swift 
witness now admits, confesses and acknowledges that if he sticks 
to that false charge against my fair client, he will be damned. 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


27 


That is exactly my opinioil. I hope your honor will order the 
the honorable discharge of the lady.” 

His honor did and the young man sat down amid thunders of 
applause. 

The white woman was told she was free. Dolly clung to her 
side: the two made their way out of the court. 

Mr. Blackstone Coke Sharp’s friends warmly shook him by 
the hand and congratulated him on his great effort. Mr. Hunt- 
item told him he had now got his feet on the first round of the 
ladder, going up to fame and fortune; he would climb on to the 
topmost round. 

“You’ll get on, my boy,” said Holdfast, one of the oldest 
members of the bar. “You’re bound to get on; you’ve got 
the push and you’ve got the brass in you.” 

Hagan still looking like a tied and angry bear stood by gloom- 
ily chewing and spitting — tobacco was his only resource. 

The young lawyer’s bold and now merry black eyes lighted on 
that disgruntled officer. 

“Why hello Hagan, old fellow !” he cried, slapping him on 
the shoulder in the friendliest way, “here’s every body congratu- 
lating me except you. How did you like my speech ? Pretty 
good, eh ?” 

Mr. Hagan was profane. He wanted to know how the h — a 
man could like a speech that came down on him like a thousand 
of bricks.” 

“All’s fair in love and war, Hagan, eh? I was bound to win 
my case. You stood in the way; I had to bowl you out. Who 
is the woman, anyway?” 

“How the d — 1 should I know ?” growled the policeman, not 
in the le^t molified. “I thought you knowed.” 

“Not a*vord — not a word !” criediBlackstone Coke Sharp with 
a radiant face. “Never heard a word; don’t know her family, don’t 
know her name, never saw her face and never heard her speak. 
She may be deaf and dumb and blind for aught I know.” 

“And dead drunk too, I suppose?” growled Hagan, glowering 
with rage. 

“Exactly. For all I know a woman of the town. Good-day, 
Hagan.” 

The policeman was speechless with rage. Badgered in open 
court for a woman of the town. Words w r ere inadequate to ex- 
press his indignation. 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE CHRISTMAS BOX. 

The two young ladies left the tea table on the night they were 
to feast their companions on the good things in the Christmas 
box, and went up to their own room, to make ready for their 


28 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


guests, which Miss Charlmonte at once proceeded to do. She re- 
plenished the fire, cleared the two tables of books, paper, pens 
and ink bottles, drew them together in the middle of the room 
and spread over them a snow' white cloth. Pat, the porter, 
brought in the box which w r as large and heavy, and prized off 
the top. 

The other girl paid no attention. She had dropped into a seat 
Pear the window, pulled aside the curtain, and fixing her lonely 
violet eyes on the clouded sky beyond, she fell into dreams and 
said nothing. 

Miss Charlmonte sniffed at the box, peered into it, glanced at 
the beauty by the window. 

“We won’t unpack the box until the girls come,” said Miss 
Charlmonte. 

“Don’t you think they will like to see the things taken out ; to 
help?” 

“I dare say, yes.” replied the beauty at the window, dream- 
ily, not once withdrawing her lovely eyes from their gaze on the 
overcast sky without. Her cousin again sniffed at the box. 

“It smells like turkey, Canny, and there’s the odor of cake and 
fruit, oranges and apples; don’t you think so, Canny ?” 

“Don’t I think what, dear ?” asked Miss Canny, still in dream- 
land, from which neither turkey or oranges, cake or apples had 
power to draw her, Miss Charlmonte began to resent this in- 
difference. 

“Did’nt I think what ?” she retorted in a sharp tone, and then 
satirically remarked that no matter how fond people might be of 
astronomical observations, she thought a little common sense 
would teach them there w T as no sort of use in studying the 
heavens when the skies were hid behind black clouds. 

The beauty at the window looked at the satirical young lady 
in amazement, and then sweetly asked if her assistance w r as 
needed. 

H t Miss Charlmonte said nothing more could be done until Kitty 
brought the plates, knives and forks. 

Then there was a long pause, which w r as broken by a sigh, a 
little and very gentle sigh; but still a sigh, which came from the 
gentle breast of the dreamer at the window. Miss Charlmonte ’s 
quick ear caught the sound. 

“Now, Co ny, dear,” she said, “if you really are so hungry for 
turkey and pickles, like Sophy Smidge, I’ll cut you a slice at 
once.” 

The little beauty looked gravely astonished. 

‘ - Hungry ? Why what on earth, Roma, makes you think I am 
hungry? Do I look like Sophy Smidge.” 

“No! 0, no !” replied Miss Roma, cheerfully, sitting down in a 
chair directly in front of the beauty, and looking' at her critical- 
ly. “Conny, dear, there is no personal resemblance — not the 
least. You are very lovely to look at. Miss Smidge is not ex- 
actly what we would call a beauty. Your hair is bright as gold; 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


29 


Miss Smidge’s dull as snuff. Your eyes a deep violet; Miss 
Smidge’s rather snuffy. Your skin, clear rose and white ; Miss 
Smidge’s snuffy. No, there is no personal resemblance be- 
tween you and Sophy Srnidge; but if it is not hunger,. Conny, that 
makes you sigh and groan in that dismal way, pray tell me what 
it is?” 

Now the lovely young beauty certainly felt that she was badly 
treated; that it was altogether unjust to describe her one little 
timid sigh as dismal sighs and groans. Groans ! In that word 
lay the grossest unjustice ; and to sigh and groan for hunger ! 
Tears rose to the gentle eyes. 

“As if — as if,” she f sobbed, “I could be such a — such /i pig as 
to sigh and groan for — for turkey ! I don’t want turkey ! I hate 
turkey ! I want mama and papa, and all — all the rest, and — and 
they send me — me turkey !” 

The word “turkey” came out with such concentrated scorn as 
made Miss Roma smile in her sleeve and go on with her teasing. 

“It is all very well, Conny, dear,” she said, with affected 
seriousness, “for you to turn up your pretty nose at turkey. 
You may be inspired by thoughts too high and ^motions too fine 
to permit you to feel the every day wants of humbler mortals, 
but for my part, I quite sympathize with Sophy Smidge to- 
night, and am perfectly ravenous for baked turkey, and almost 
mad for pickles. If there is not here in this box an eighteen 
pound bird, beautifully browned, and stuffed with oysters, after 
Aunt Rachel’s best style, the disappointment will be crushing.” 

“You may have all my share, Roma,” said the beauty, with 
pathetic sweetness,. “I will not touch it. I — Iwantmamaand 
papa and home. 1 don’t want turkey.” 

A small square of cambric, edged with lace, was applied to the 
tearful eye. Still Miss Roma was obdurate.” 

“Well, dear,” she said in a decisive tone, “I have made up 
my mind. I shall write to aunt this night, as soon as the girls 
finish their supper, and tell her just how you feel — how home- 
sick you are. I have been thinking of it some time.” 

“What— what will you say to mama'?’ 1 asked the beauty, 
gently weeping behind the handkerchief. 

“What will I say? Well, dear, I have a great deal to say 
that aunt ought to know. I am afraid she will scold me for not 
saying it sooner. “ 

“Saying what, Roma?” inquired the other in some anxiety. 
“You talk so enigmatical, I do not understand.” 

“Not at all. There’s no enigma about it, Conny. I mean that 
I ought to have written to aunt and told her how her poor little 
girl is pining for home, and how she has lost her appetite and 
does not eat as much as the canary bird she left in its cage at 
home, and how., instead of growing better, she grows worse. I 
think, Conny, clear, that your appetite began to fail after that 
unfortunate sleigh ride we took with Cousin Ed. I blame Ed. 
for the whole trouble, Conny. He drove so carelessly and spilled 


30 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


you out in the show, and you went down almost out of sight. 
Won’t Uncle and Aunt give it to Ed. for his carelessness ? Not 
that I think a tumble in the white snow such a dangerous thing. 
If it had been me, it would have made no difference, but you — 
why, Conny, Ed. himself was dreadfully alarmed. He turned 
quite pale, as if you was tumbling down a precipice on ragged 
rocks. He dashed the reins to me and sprung out in a flash. 
Perhaps it was fear of what uncle and aunt would say, that 
frightened him so. When he put you back in the sleigh and 
tucked the robe around you, didn’t you notice, dear, how pale 
he was ? — as if something awful had happened ?” 

There was no reply, and the young lady resumed : 

“I noticed from that hour that my poor little coz has not been 
the same gay and cheerful and hearty little girl. No, dear, you 
sit about, drooping and dreaming, as if something dreadful was 
on your mind, and you don’t eat enough to keep a bird alive and 
aunt ought to know it.” 

During all this cruel speech, Miss Charlmonte was cooly 
watching the changes that flitted over the lovely face before her. 
First it flushed, then it paled, then again it flushed, then into 
the velvet eyes there seemed to gather a look of sorrowful in- 
dignation. 

“O !” she cried, “what a dreadful, dreadful story ! You must 
not write that to mamma ! It will make her uneasy. How 
can you think of such stories? Oh, Roma l” 

“Stories?” echoed the other, with an open, innocent face, 
“How can you call them stories, Conny, dear ? Can you deny 
that something very, very serious happened to you when you 
"were spilled out on the snow? Can you deny that you have lost 
your appetite ? Can you say on your honor that the sleigh-ride 
had nothing to do with it ? Have I not seen you time and again 
rise from the table, your meat untasted on your plate?” 

“I don’t like beef,” replied the beauty, earnestly. “I never 
could eat beef. Mamma knows I hate beef.” 

“Were it only beef, my poor little Conny,-” replied the tor- 
menter, with great seriousness, “I would not think it necessary 
to write to aunt. But, dear! I know, before that sleigh-ride, you 
were quite fond of chicken — brown-baked chicken was your de- 
light, Conny, — yet, only yesterday I saw you slip your piece of 
chicken to the plate of that sallow-skinned cormorant, Sophy 
Smidge. You can’t deny that, Conny, dear ?” 

“It was tough, Roma. I believe that chicken was as old as 
Miss Stokes. Mamma knows I never will eat tough chicken, 
and besides, Roma, Sophy Smidge whispered to me that she was 
so hungry, and you know how Mrs. Finisher looks at a girl 
when she asks for more chicken.” 

“At any rate, little coz,” returned Miss Charlmonte, reflec- 
tively, “I am positive that something serious has been the mat- 
ter with you ever since Ed. Charlmonte — careless, careless fel- 
low ! — turned } r ou out in the snow-bank. Indeed, my darling, 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


31 


I noticed from the very moment Cousin Ed. put you back in the 
sleigh that a change had taken place — a serious change. You 
were no longer the gay, lively little girl. You sat as still as a 
mouse and seemed to be in a dream, and never spoke a word* 
and as to Cousin Ed, I declare he too, thought something un- 
commonly serious had happened. He looked so, so guilty. I 
think his conscience was stinging him for imperiling your life 
in that fearful snow-bank. Don’t you, Conny, dear V’ 

A deep blush dyed the beauty’s cheeks. She turned to the 
window to evade the dark eyes of her satirical cousin. How 
vividly she remembered that ride ! Could she ever forget the 
plunge in the white, soft bank ? Could .she ever forget the 
handsome, eager face that looked into her’s as she struggled to 
feet ? . Could she ever forget the light touch of a pair of young 
lips laid upon her virgin brow and the two tender words, “Dar- 
ling ! darling ! u that broke from the one heart and went straight 
to the other, and filled and thrilled it with a strange rapture ? 
Never could all this be forgotten. It lived in her memory. It 
haunted her dreams by day and by night. It expanded the 
world to her vision and glorified the universe. 

As soon as she felt that she could speak with a perfectly steady 
voice, she replied, gravely : 

‘‘You well know, Roma, that there is nothing the matter with 
me. It will be very unkind in you to write that nonsense to- 
mamma. “ 

“Ah, my little coz,“ replied the other, “you do not realize 
how serious the case is. However, since you do not wish Aunt 
to be made uneasy, perhaps it will do as well to consult Cousin 
Ed. I think Ed. knows enough by this time to be trusted with 
your case. Besides, I dare say, Ed. will understand your ail- 
ment better than any other doctor would, and will take more in- 
terest in it, as he is most to blame about it.“ 

This was the feather that broke the camel’s back. The beauty 
burst into tears. Miss Charlmonte smiled a wicked little smile 
and then became compunctious. Jumping up, she put her arms 
around her little cousin. 

“Why, what is it, Conny, dear?" I never dreamed that you 
would care. There! — there ! — there !“ 

With each “there, “ she set a kiss on the little beauty, first on 
the top of her head, then on her forehead, then on her tear-wet 
cheek. The loving heart was easily appeased. Drying her eyes r 
she smiled at her own weakness. 

“I cannot see, Roma, dear,“ she said, “how you can be so un- 
kind, when you know 1 love you so much,“ 

“It was mean in me, little coz,“ said the tall girl, after in- 
dulging in another sly smile over the top of her cousin‘s golden 
brown head. “It was very, very mean to tease you so; but 
don't you see, dear, how should I know you really cared ? Not 
a word have you or Ed. ever told me of the great happiness that 
has come to you, and you know he is my brother by adoption, 


32 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


and cousin by birth, as you are my sister. Sow, was it no* 
shabby to keep it from me?“ 

“But you know! — you know! — you know /“ murmured the 
girl, hiding her roseate face on the tall girl's shoulder, and after 
that confession, there was loving peace between them. 

Kitty came in with the plates, the knives and forks, and along 
the uncarpeted corridor came the patter of young feet and lively 
raps at the door, 'which opened and the young things fluttered 
in and stood around the fire. But before we go on with the ac- 
count of the accident, or fate which prevented the bidden guests 
from enjoying the feast, we must return to Dolly and the born 
lady. Trifling as the circumstances may be, great results hinged 
upon them. 


CHAPTER V. 

PAYING THE PENALTY. 

Dolly and the woman she had called the “bawn lady,” made 
their way out of the police court as fast as they could, paying no 
attention to the many curious glances which endeavored to pierce 
the folds of the brown veil that covered the white woman’s face. 
Once in the street the white woman rushed on as if hunters were 
after her. The negress soon dropped the white woman’s arm, to 
which she had clung while in the police court. She felt that it 
was more fitting to walk a little behind, as was customary among 
servants. 

“She can’t git shet o’ me,” thought Dolly, as the woman 
strode on so rapidly. “Not tell I sees her comf’bly home — dat 
she can’t.” 

After going on for ten or fifteen minutes Dolly ventured to 
speak. 

“See here, honey, is you got much furder to go afo 1 youstops?“ 

The white woman started as if stung by the touch of the hand 
Dolly laid upon her arm, the sound of the vioce that struck her 
ear. The sight of her wretched face went to Dolly's heart. 

“Why follow me ?“ asked the woman. “Go home to your 
friends, Dolly. “ 

“I ain‘ a gwine to go home tell I sees you comf'bly settled by 
a warm fiah, Miss Silla,I ain't a gwine to.“ 

“There's no comfort for me, Dolly, no home, no friends — all — 
all are gone ! Go to your own home — leave me to myself — to my 
wretched self.“ 

“No, no, honey, I ain't gwine to — dat ain't de sorter harpin I 
is, by no means — no mannah o‘ means. I‘se gwine 'long wid 
you, Miss Silla, plum tell I sees you comf'bly by a good fiah, 1 
is dat, for certain." 

The white woman wrung her hands with despairing eyes — 
‘Leave me ! Leave me ! Leave me !“ was her cry. * 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


33 


“Miss Silla, answer me dis,“ said the persevering negress,. 
‘ answer me dis, whar did you come from ? Whar was you 
stayin’ fo’ you got in de p’lice house ? Can’t you go back to 
dat same place, where ebber it was ? I’ll go wid you dar an‘ see 
you cpmfibly fixed up, den dis chile ‘11 go ‘long back to her own 
ole roostin’ place.” 

They had drawn themselves close up against the wall of a brick 
building, whice broke off the cutting wind. The white woman 
wrung her hands, a driving despair possessed her, and ruled her, 
and urged her on to the very verge, heart, mind and soul stag- 
gered in the carkness of a pitiless night. Not one ray of light 
pierced it. She felt as if on one she stood, on the other side,, 
against her, was the universe. The odds were too great. She 
gave up. Her impulse was to rush on to the end of all, to leap 
off into chaos. All this looked out from her aspect and her eyes. 
The negress shivered with strange fear as she read the signs in 
the anguished face. 

“Whar was you stayin’, honey? Whar is you come from,, 
honey?” she asked, shaking with cold and fear. 

“Anywhere ! Everywhere ! Nowhere !” shrieked the almost 
maddened creature, pulling away from Dolly’s clutching fingers. 

“Den honeys,” said the negress, holding her with all her force 
close up to the wall, “ef you’s got no home o‘ yo‘ own to go to,, 
come long wid ole Dolly. Ole Dolly’s got a comf’ble room, an‘ 
a clean bed an‘ flah to keep you warm, come along wid Dolly,, 
honey.” 

“No, no, no !” muttered the woman, pulling away, but the 
next instant a stillness fell upon her, she ceased to struggle 
against Dolly’s clutching fingers, she shrunk back closer against 
the wall, close behind the negress and from the shadow, gazed 
with lips apart and feyes strained and starting from their sockets, 
gazed on a face she saw at the window of the carriage that 
stopped before the door of the building whose wall sheltered 
them. 

The lower hall of the building was one of old King Alcohol’s 
finest palaces. Gilded mirrors, cut glass, easy chairs and fine 
pictures attracted the passer by. In summer, iced drinks seduced 
the unsuspicious, in winter, hot drinks, seasoned to suit any 
taste and to seduce raw-recruits. Here the oldest soldiers of old 
Alcohol’s army were served with as fiery fluids as their shattered 
nerves might demand, while for the new beginners, mild and 
sweetened possets were mixed. 

The carriage drew up before the door of this splendid Drink- 
Palace. Men and youths were going in and out, well-dressed,, 
gentlemanly people. From the carriage stepped a gentleman, 
wrapped in a costly fur cloak. It was this individual at whom 
the “born lady” glared with strained eye-balls. Two boys also* 
sprang out of the carriage and all three went into the Drink- 
palace. They were a handsome trio, boys and man, a strong re- 
semblance showed they were of the same blood. All three were 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


34 

.slenderly and gracefully formed, dark slender faces with black 
brows slanting toward the nose, the upper lip of the man was 
adorned with a black moustache, the faces of the boys were as 
smooth as a young girl’s, the elder was sixteen, the younger, 
twelve or thirteen. 

The two women stood shivering against the wall. 
In her excitement, the white woman’s fingers clutched the 
black’s arm — pretty soon the trio came out, the two boys sprung 
into the carriage ; the man came more slowly, he was talking to 
another man. The sight of this second man increased the inten- 
sity of the white woman’s excitement, her fingers increased the 
force of their clutch until the negress winced with pain. This 
man was large, portly.and elderly, with a broad rubicund face — 
a face that betokened much good eating and some good drinking. 
The two men seemed to be old. acquaintances who were meeting 
after a lenghtened separation. The younger and handsomer man 
asked after the other’s family, the elder man invited the other 
to call around — his “girl had a party that night, they would be 
glad to see him around.” Then they shook hands with each 
other and the elderly man walked away, leaving the younger 
standing in a reflective mood. 

“Come, uncle,” cried the younger of the two handsome boys, 
putting his head out of the window, “you’ll freeze your feet ; 
aren’t you going to the theatre with us ?” 

“No, Fred, I’ve changed my mind — Puffington, take the boys 
to the theatre and then drive to my rooms, I’ll meet you there.” 

The carriage whirled off and the handsome gentleman drew 
his fur-lined cloak closely about his shoulders and walked away. 

The fingers released their nervous hold on the negress’ arm, 
and Dolly drew a long breath. She was grievously disappoint- 
ed, for she, too, had recognized one of the mfcn as the father of 
the woman she was with, and her very heart groaned as she saw 
the man go off and no sign from his daughter. 

“ ’Deed an‘ ’deed, Miss Silla,” she said, deeply depressed, 
“you orter a c spoke to him — he’d a‘ tuck you home to yo‘ ma, 
Miss Silla. I knows he would, an‘ a £ made you so warm an- 
comf’bly, Miss Silla, I knows he would, Lor‘, Lor‘,” a de'ep 
groan broke from her black breast. 

Mach as the negress prided herself on her acquaintance with 
“gran’ ’quality ways,” she had no conception of that impassable 
gulf that lay between the outcast and the home she had left. 
Never for one instant was that black and impassable gulf ab- 
sent from the outcast’s mind. 

She wrung her hands as she stood on the shores of that gulf 
and looked across the black and impassable waste, and in the 
distance, on the other side, she saw the peace and purity of the 
home she had abandoned. She wrung her hands, and despair 
drove her onward— the instinct to escape, to flee from the world, 
the universe, set wings to her feet, The negress was nimble and 
kept up with her. She caught her by the arm. 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


35 


“Whar is you goin’ now, honey?” she asked, staying her im- 
petuous steps. 

“The river— the river is yonder,” replied the miserable crea- 
ture in a hoarse whisper. 

“You aint a goin’ to de riber dis night— dat you aint,” said 
the negress firmly. “De water is too cole, -dat aint de way to 
do it. Ef you’s boun’ for to do it, pizen is de easies’ way, honey 
— dat it is.” 

“They won’t give me poison— they fool me — I tried that.” 

Dolly held on persistently. 

“Come ’long wid me, honey, I knows whar you ken git jest as 
much pizen as you wants to — nuff for settle yo’ case two dozen 
time — come ’long,, honey.” 

The white woman yielded to the other’s force and suffered her- 
self to be turned. Dolly was encouraged. She kept up her 
talk. 

“I knows one o' de wickedes’ young doctor-men, Miss Silla — 
dey’s all bad nuff, dey makes no bones o’ cutting rya folks an’ 
pokin’ in ’mong der innerds, sarchin’ out what de* good Lord 
hisself neber ’lowed for nobody to see into.” 

The white woman allowed herself to be led along, she was 
more quiet. Dolly continued : 

“Lor’ ” she cried, with cheerful confidence, “7 knows whar 
clem doctors lives, Miss Silla. Don’t you ’members dat great big 
brick bpdin’ house jes a little ways from de Fincher school whar 
you used to go to study you’ book ? — dat bodin’ house whar so 
many o’ de young Fincher school girls boded ? Well, dars whar 
de young doctor-men now bodes, and my young master, Mas Ed. 
Charlmon’; he bodes dar. Some o‘ dem young doctor-men is de 
wustest in de wul‘. I knows, becase I chamber-maided in dat 
bodin’-house onst. Dey fiddles on Sunday, an’ takes dancin’ 
steps, even dough de chuch-bells is ringin’, an’ one on ’em says 
he ain’t afeerd o’ no debel an‘ no hell, becase he says der ain’t 
no debil an’ no hell — dats de one’ll gin you pizen ef you wants 
it, becaze he ain’t afeerd o’ de debil. Dis is de way, Miss Silla, 
we ain’t fur off now.” 

This last was a remonstrance to keep the white woman on the 
right street, but Dolly failed. She swung suddenly off at right 
angles and swiftly strode along a street built up with respectable 
family residences. 

Dolly felt chagrined at this new departure. She had, for the 
last five minutes, flattered herself that that she would succeed 
in the scheme of delivery, which had evolved in her brain — she 
meant to give the woman to the care of the medical students with 
whom she was quite well acquainted, trusting that they 
would devise some plan to save her. They trudged on in 
silence ; for the moment, Dolly had no plans, she waited for 
something to turn up. Something did turn up— a something 
very unlooked for. Her companion came to a sudden halt be- 
fore a house, every window of which was brilliantly lighted, 


36 


BLACK AND WHL1E. 


from within came the sounds of music, merry music, and 
the pattering of feet. 

A line of carriages was drawn by the side-walk. Although 
it had been more than six years since Dolly had served in the 
family to which the “born lady” belonged, having entered their 
service at the Virginia Sulphur Springs, where they were sum- 
mering, she recognized the house as soon as she looked at it 
the name was on the door, “Peter Blaine.” 

Vivid pictures of the comfort and luxury within, rose to her 
memory and her heart gave a leap of joy. She thought at last 
the woman would apply to her natural protectors and relatives 
for relief in her dire extremity, she had no doubt of its be- 
ing given. In her eagerness, she seized her companion’s arm. 

“Lor’, honey, I’s dat glad you’s come back to yo’ ma an’ pa 
onst more ! He’s yo’ own pa, an’ she’s yo’ own ma, aud dey’ll 
be awful glad to see you, but you sees, honey, deys got suffin 
gran’ goin’ on in de way o’ company, we’d better jes slip roun‘ 
by de alley, an‘ go in by de side door, an‘ set by de kitchen fiah, 
an‘ get a hof cup o‘ coffee, an‘ wont dah be ’joicin‘ when dey 
sees you’s come home.” 

While Dolly was giving this advice, her companion was going 
along by the row of carriages, looking at each one, until she came 
to the one they had seen before the Drink-Palace, and from 
which had descended the handsome man and the two handsome 
boys. The same portly, paunchy coachman sat on the driver’s 
seat, muffled up in furs so that he looked like a great shaggy 
bear. The born lady looked up at this individual and asked if 
that was Mr. Singleton’s carriage. 

The paunchy man wanted to know what business it was of hers. 

“You’d better give a decent answer,” spoke up Dolly resent- 
ful^, “ef you knows what’s good for yoself — dis is a bawn lady, 
dis is. Mine yo mannahs wen you speaks to yo bettahs.” 

Whereupon the paunchy driver condescended to reply that it 
was the Singleton carriage, and what then ? The white woman 
asked if Mr. Singleton was in the house. 

“You may see for yourself,” said the paunchy man in a surly 
toue, turniug toward the house and looking at the window, “you 
can see him if you look.” 

The two women looked at the window. The lace curtains 
were parted in the middle and drawn to either side, the figures 
of two persons standing in the room were plainly visible, the 
brilliant light illuminated the two forms, one was g, young girl, 
in evening dress, the other was the same handsome man whom 
they had heard called Singleton. 

“Lor’,” said Dolly, in a whisper, “ef dat ain’t Margret — how 
she have growed, to be sho ! 

“Hush — keep still !” said her companion, whose eyes were 
fixed on the window scene with painful intensity. The young 
girl and the handsome man seemed to be talking togethor, the 
former held a bouquet of flowers in her hand, she drew out one 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


3 7 


and gi ve it to the handsome maq, He received it with gallant 
homage, touching it to his lips, then put it in his button hole.. 
The white woman looking on seemed strangely affected, she 
started, restrained herself, and turned again to the paunchy 
coachman. 

“I must speak to your master,” she said. “Can you leave 
your horses to go and call him out.” 

The audacity of this request seemed to strike the paunchy driver 
dumb. For a moment he could not speak. Turning his head 
first on one side and then on the other as if a little dazed, he 
solemnly gazed down from his lofty eminence on the* poor worms 
looking up at him from the muddy earth. 

“Leave my horses?” he stammered, the preposterousness 
of the idea again overcame him. Speech was inadequate. At 
this instant the hall door of the Blaine house opened and a tall 
figure wrapped in a fur cloak came down the stone steps. The 
driver pointed his whip at the tall figure, 

“Yon he comes — call him yo’self,” he said and subsided 
into the depths of his furs. 

The white woman turned to meet the handsome gentleman, 
his eyes were down-bent, as if some puzzling thought occupied 
his mind, in fact, at that very moment he was asking himself 
the question which he had gone to the Blaine House to get answer- 
ed and which had not been answered — 

“What has become of her ?” was the question. Within three 
feet was the one of whom he was thinking — he passed her un- 
consciously — no instinct turned him to look at or speak to hen 
She put herself before him, he moved on, heeding her as little 
as if she had been a post. She followed him and laid her hand 
on his arm, he shook her off impatiently. 

“Out of my way,” he muttered, if “you don’t want a police- 
man called.” 

“Call the police if you choose, Arthur Singleton,” said the 
woman, “but hear me you must.” 

“Who are you? What do you want?” he asked, a sudden 
alarm seizing him. Was there something in the tones of the 
voice he had just heard that brought up the past ? 

“Take me to some place where I can speak in private, and you 
shall know who I am and what I want.” 

The man drew back with distrust. “Not until I know who 
you are,” he said. 

The street lamp shone brightly from across the street, the 
light fell directly on Singleton’s pale, handsome face, the wo- 
man’s was in the shadow. With a swift movement she whirled 
his back to the lamp, and turned herself so that the lamp’s rays 
fell on her face, the brown veil was thrown back, the drink- 
branded lace was naked to the eye of the man who had once 
looked upon that face as the one attractive thing on earth. A 
cold horror crept over him. 


38 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


“Ah !” she said, in bitter derision, “you know me now, Ar- 
thur Singleton.” 

“Great God! — Drusilla Blaine!” he cried, staggering back- 
ward. 

“Do not speak that name — here — so near this house,” she com- 
manded in a suppressed tone. 

For a brief instant Singleton stood aghast and undecided 
what to do. It required no second glance to show him to what 
depths of degredation the woman bad descended. Had he 
obeyed the impulse of his feelings he would have fled far and 
fast. It was always his first impulse to run from anything disa- 
greeable or troublesome, true he had only a moment before 
been curious to know what had become of this -woman, but he 
had no desire for this sort of thing. Greatly to the disgust of 
the paunchy coachman, Singleton opened the carriage door, put 
the woman in it, mounted himself to the driver’s seat. They 
drove ofl leaving the dumfounded Dolly standing and staring. 

“Laws!” she said, after recovering her mind and turning 
her steps homeward. “Laws ! I’s dat glad she done foun’ him! 
I’s dat glad she’ll git a good fiah an’ make herself comf’ble and 
gin out dat pizen business.” 

After a moment’s reflection her thoughts again found vent in 
words. Wagging her turbaned head with a sage and solemn 
:air, 

“Lor’! Lor’ ! she murmured, “Wat a quar wul dis is — wat a 
quar wul !” 

Thus relieved, Dolly trotted briskly down the street and in a 
few minutes hove in sight of the light shining from the window 
of her enemy’s little grocery store. All at once the affairs 
of the “bawn lady” went back out of sight, and the old 
chronic quarrel with her neighbor, the “Arish ooman,” came to 
the front of Dolly’s mind. She broke into a chuckle, and imme- 
diately set her fertil brain to concocting a plausible story which 
would account for her non appearance at the magistrate’s office. 
iSaid story was to redound to Dolly’s honor and send daggers to 
the heart of the enemy. 

“Dis niggah’l gin you to know, you po’ white trash,” 
she muttered in pursuance of this laudable scheme, “as 
de bigges’ lawyer in de town corned arter me, aid took me 
outen dat low-down place, aid dat big lawyer says, says he, 
•Dolly, wot you a doiid in sech a place as dis ?‘ aid I says, says I, 
‘‘Dem'oudacious pTicemen, dey fech me yer all ‘long o‘ dat po‘ 
white Arish ooman who keeps a one-hoss groc‘y sto,‘ says I. 
Den he says, says he, ‘Come ‘long wid me, Dolly, dis aiidt no 
place fur fus‘-qual‘ty servants as you is, come ‘long wid me aid 
.stay two free days wid my wife aid chillens/ says he. So 1 went 
Tong wid dat ar big lawyer to his big fine house, aid stay all 
day wid dem chillens o‘ his‘n, aid dem chillens is rale fu&t-class 

quality chillens, dey is dat, sho‘ Lors a massy ! wots 

dis ?“ 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


39 


She had reached her own door and was fumbling in her pocket 
for the key, when her feet came in contact with something that 
lived and moved. Dolly started back a step. 

“Wots dis yer scrouchedup agin my do‘ — eh? — dogs an‘ cats? 
Clar out ! clar out !“ 

With that she began to bombard the intruder with balls of 
snow. The moans became whimperings of an unmistakable hu- 
man sound. Dolly ceased snow-balling. 

u Dem soun‘s zackly like chillens — human chillens, “ she said. 
Cautiously passing her hand over the whimpering things, she 
felt three little human heads. 

“Lor‘ ! ef dey ain't sho‘-nuff chillens ! — wot on airth is you a 
doin‘ out yer dis time o c night? — a freezin of yo‘selves to def !“ 
Dragging out the shivering, whimpering little creatures to the 
light of the street lamp, she saw they were the Gaff children, 
whom she had last seen in the magistrate's office. 

By dint of much shaking and persistent questioning Dolly 
learned from the eldest child that their father, after being re- 
leased from the court, went off and got drunk, came home drunk 
and beat their mother so badly that she was laid up in bed, 
without fire or wood, and they had ^one on the street to beg, but 
no one had given them a penny. 

“Dey nebber gin you nuffin' — eh ?“ said Dolly indignantly. 
“Dey's nobody, deys nuffin but po‘ white trash anyhow ! Come 
wid Dolly, chillens ; Dolly‘11 teck you to sho'-nnff fust-quality 
folks, what‘1 gin you, an' yo‘ po' ma wittles to eat, much as 
you ken stuff. Come Tong, chillens — hit hain't fur.“ 

Dolly clutched the two smaller by the hands, the largest trot- 
ted after, and all four walked off swiftly in the direction of the 
Finisher Institute. 


CHAPTER VI. 

RETURNS TO THE FINISHER INSTITUTE AND RELATES HOW THE 
CHRISTMAS FEAST DID NOT TURN OUT AS ANTICIPATED. 

At the appointed hour there came along the uncarpeted corri- 
dor, a patter of young feet, and a succession of taps on the cous- 
ins' door. 

“Come in !“ called out Miss Charlmonte. 

And in flocked a bevy of girls, buoyant and gurgling over with 
young life. Among them were Miss Wedrington the stately, 
Miss Mopson the sentimental, the blushing Rosa Amelia, and 
the bouncing Miss Smidge. All of these young ladies were the 
classmates of Miss Charlmonte and Miss Ashford, but it was an 
open secret that some of them remained in the classes for form's 
sake, never knowing, never trying to know, a lesson. At recita- 
tions the answers were whispered by the next girl, and the teach- 


40 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


ers winked at the device. Miss Smidge was one who never, by 
any accident knew a lesson, but who always sung out the answers 
to the questions with a bold, confident air. There had been a 
time when the teachers exerted themselves to make Miss Smidge 
study. Finding the task hopeless, they had given it up and left 
her to slip along any fashion (her bills were regularly paid). It 
was well understood in the school, that Miss Smidge would “grad- 
uate“ after a certain time, and would retire with a diploma, tied 
with blue ribbon, and then her mama, who was wealthy, would 
launch her in society to catch a husband. 

“ As I live, girls, ” cried Miss Smidge, looking around in search 
of the good things, “ they haven’t got the things out of the box 
yet.“ 

Miss Charlmonte explained that they thought the girls would 
like the fun of helping to unpack the box. “ Come, Sophy, you 
shall help.“ 

Miss Smidge went at the business with alacrity. The others 
stood by looking on with admiration. 

First they took out the fruit, then came the fruit cake, then a 
paper was removed and an extraordinarily large brown-baked 
turkey was exposed to view and “ Oh ! how splendid !“ “What 
a monster !“ “How nice!“ etc., etc., were the exclamations that 
broke from lovely lips. 

“De-licious !“ cried Miss Smidge in a gustatory ecstacy. 

“Now, we will takeout his royal highness — Lift him by the 
legs, Sophy, I take his neck — Hold fast ! Up with him, There!” 

They landed him safely on the pine board top of the box which 
did duty as a dish. A little note was found tied to the top of a 
pine apple, addressed to “Miss Constance Ashford,” who among^ 
all the chattering guests, had remained dreamily silent. She 
read the note and kissed it, and tears filled her violet eyes, at 
which manifestations Miss Wedrington smiled satirically. 

“It’s just too good,” said Miss Smidge, extatically. " “Don’t 
you think so, Tow?” 

Tow was the “nick” name Miss Smidge had bestowed on Miss 
Wedrington — a delicate compliment to the peculiar color of that 
young lady’s hair as well, as to the word her initials made, Teresa 
Olivia Wedrington. 

“Quite nice,” calmly replied the Senator’s daughter. 

“What do you say, little coz ?” asked Miss Charlmonte, glanc- 
ing at the dreaming beauty at the window. “Does not the smell 
of Aunt Rachel’s cookery make you hungry, Conny ?” 

“I shan’t touch him, Roma. Not for the world ! I won’t touch 
him !” replied the beauty, with tears in her voice. 

“Why not?” and “Why not?” asked a chorus qf voices, in 
astonishment. 

“She talks as if it were poisoned,” remarked Miss Wedring- 
ton, in her cool way 

“It is poisoned for me ! I don’t see why mamma sent that 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


41 


turkey of all others. I won’t touch him — It was quite cruel to 
kill him.” 

“But, Conny, dear,” said her cousin pursuasively, “don’t you 
know the larger a turkey is the better it is. I’m sure you’ll find 
this fellow very tender and nice.” 

“But I can't touch him, Roma — read Mamma’s note, she says 
she sends old Don Pedro because he was the biggest on the 
Island. Oh, how cruel! and he used to eat out of my hand.” 

“Don Pedro !” said Miss Roma. “Is this Don Pedro ? I’m 
sorry they killed him — Poor old fellow.” 

“But who was he? What do you mean, anyhow?” asked 
Miss Smidge. 

“He was so funny, girls,” said Miss Roma, putting the finish- 
ing touches to the table. “I wish you could have seen him when 
alive ! Every morning he would come under Conny’s window 
and strut and drag his yellow wings on the ground ahd sputter 
and spread himself ; there never was such a proud, pompous old 
thing ! — and Conny always gave him crumbs to eat out of her 
hand. He knew Conny and would follow her about all over the 
yard. I used to think he fancied we admired him and tried to 
show off before us. I’m sorry, Conny, but it can’t be helped 
now , we may as well eat him now he is dead. Don’t you think 
so, dear ?” 

“I can’t — I’d feel like a cannibal,” returned Miss Conny, with 
tearful pathos. 

“Turkeys are intended to be killed and eaten,” said Miss 
Wedrington, who had no patience with the sentimentalism of the 
little beauty. 

“Aunt will be sorry, she never dreamed that you would feel 
so about him,” said Miss Roma. 

“What a goosy goose !” cried Miss Smidge, gigling and show- 
ing all of her large teeth. “If he’d eaten out of my hand since 
the first minute he was hatched, I’d eat him when I got hungry, 
would’nt you, Rosamele ?” 

Ro'sa Amelia sympathized with Miss Conny. She said she 
couldn’t eat anything she had petted and fed. 

“Don’t you think, girls,” said Roma, sharpening the carving 
knife on the steel; “don’t you think if King Arthur or Alfred, 
whichever it was, had sat before a bird like that, he would have 
knighted him instead of that great tough loin of beef?” 

“I hate beef,” said the dreamy beauty at the window, surrep- 
titiously wiping a tear from the corner of her soft violet eyes. 
The little girl was home-sick, she pined for a sight of the loving 
faces and a touch of the loving hands at home, perhaps also she 
dreamed of another voice and another face, but only in the deep- 
est recess of her young heart, did she admit to herself that she 
loved that other voice and that other face, handsome though the 
the one was, and sweet the other. 

“In my opinion,” said Miss Wedrington, with that air of con- 
scious superiority becoming to an American Senator's daughter, 


42 


B LACK AND WHITE . 


“it was a very silly thing for a king to do. What would the 
world think if my papa in the Senate, should go and bestow hon- 
ors and titles on a piece of bloody meat ?” 

“Oh, it wasn’t bloody meat, Theresa,” the little Rosa Amelia 
hastened to correct, “it was baked brown and nice, and he was- 
so hungry.” 

“Brown or bloody, boiled or baked,” replied the Senator’s 
daughter, with a lofty air, “my papa wouldn’t have done any- 
thing so silly.” 

Kitty appeared with plates and forks. A frown was on Kitty’s 
usually cheerful brow — behind her was an object which had ruf- 
her good temper. All the girls stared at this object, except Miss 
Charlmonte and Miss Ashford, who did not see the new comer. 

“I couldn’t help it,” said Kitty, answering the astonished 
looks of the young ladies, “she’s got the impudence of old 
Satan, and would push herself in.” 

Kitty darted an angry glance at the dusky creature which ex- 
cited her ire, and this was no other than Dolly herself craning 
her head over the Irish girl’s shoulders, and peering among the 
group of girls in search of the one she had come to see. An 
anxious, solemn expression was on her black face. She still 
clutched two little hands of two little girls, while the third 
clung to her skirts. The children stared wildly, shivered and 
shook and stared and clung to Dolly. 

“I wants ter see Miss Roma Charmon’,” said Dolly, firmly 
enough, no fear of a repulse embarrassed her, notwithstanding 
the untimely intrusion. The girl looked around. 

“Why, if it isn’t Dolly — dear old Dolly.” ' 

“They shook hands joyously. The black face beamed. Then 
it frowned and darted a viperish glance at Kitty. 

“I knowed as Miss Roma an’ Miss Conny wouldn’t ’fuse to 
see ole Dolly, comp’ny or no comp’ny,” she said, indignantly. 

“No, indeed, never ! Conny, here’s Dolly. It looks like 
home to see a home face, Dolly.” 

“Lor’ bless de chile ! — jes as angely as eber!” was her greeting 
as Miss Ashford shook hands warmly with her. 

“What can we do for you, Dolly, and where did you pick up 
those poor little things?” asked Miss Charlmonte, casting com- 
misserating eyes on the little beggars. 

Dolly’s joyous beams gave way to a look of solemn earnest- 
ness. 

“Miss Roma,’’ she began, after darting a glance of withering 
scorn at Kitty “fo’ de Lord, Miss Roma, dis nigger had no Men- 
tion o’ tradin’ ’pon you dis yer onconcionable time o’ night, 
’ceptin de 'casion was so monsus pressin' an' couldn' be put off 
‘dout riskin' life an' lim' o' dese po' chilluns, which I knowed 
Miss Roma nor Miss Conny wouldn 'prove of, becafce I knowed 
Miss Roma an' Miss Conny is got hearts chuck full o' 
feelin's, which bawned ladies is natilly got. 

Dolly spoke with a great deal of suppressed excitement. She 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


4c? 


panted for breath. Her long walk in the cold, and the unusual 
events of the da} 7 -, had worked up her nervous system to a high; 
strain. The two Southern girls saw that something seriously' 
affected her. 

“You need never apologize for coming to us, Dolly, “ said 
Miss' Charlmonte, kindly, “you know how glad we always are 
to see any of the dear old Island folks. What can we do for you r 
Dolly? Will you tell us now, or will you sit by the fire until 
these young ladies eat their supper and then tell it ?“ 

The solemnity of Dolly's face became tremendous. 

“Miss Roma," she said “der ain't no use awaitin', I ain't 
agwine to 'sturb you long — I don't ask nuffin for myself — yon 
knows as Mars Ed'rd gins me a quatly 'lowance o' money which 
is more'n ‘bundant for ter keep dis chile a-goin', 'ceptin, Miss 
Roma, it do happen as I gets fro wid one quatly 'lowance 'fo' de 
nex' come roun', which is de case dis presen' minute, else I 
mout a gin dese chilluns an' der po' ma, a mossel ter eat mysef 
'dout fetchin' 'em yer, a-boderin you an' Miss Conny, dis time 
o' night, 'specially when you's got all dese (here Dolly's black 
face swiftly underwent one of those changes for which it was re- 
markable, the deep solemnity flashed out and a glad grin took 
its place as she looked around on the wondering row of j-oung 
girls whose eyes were fixed upon her) — all dese sho nuff angels 
'dout no wings, a-payin'-you a visit." 

The angels all smiled. 

“So you want these hungry little things fed ? — Is that it, Dol- 
ly ? Well, we've got a plenty as you see.". 

Miss Charlmonte cut slices of bread and turkey and made 
sandwiches and thrust them into the little hands, but the little 
things were so dazed and astqnished they seemed not to know 
what to >do w r ith the food after they had it. They continued to 
stare, one hand clutching Dolly, the other the sandwiches. Miss 
Charlmonte put a piece into their mouths. 

“Eat — eat fast !“ she said, closing their little white teeth up- 
on the tempting bait, and then it was a sight to see their fam- 
ished eagerness. Words of pity and sympathy broke from the 
“angels widout no wings," who stood around, gazing on the 
scene. 

“Miss Roma," resumed Dolly, the grin of gladness having 
fled from her face and the deep solemnity come back, “ef you 
only knowed dese chillun's ma. Lor' ! Lor' ! ef you only knoweel 
her !“ 

Dolly's manner was calculated to create the impression on her 
young audience that they had lost the world by not knowing the 
wonderful Mrs. Gaff. 

Dolly went on in the most solemn way : 

“Miss Roma, dem chillens' ma-is dis blessed minute mos c 
starved to def, an 1 hit aint ‘long o' no fault o' hern, Miss Roma, 
not a bit, dem chillen's ma is de hardes wukin 'ooman you 
eber seed ; its all along o' dat oudacious husban o' hern dem 


44 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


$hillens‘ ma wuks hawd a-washin close, an‘ dat ar oudacious 
husband o‘ hern, he drinks it up, an‘ now he‘s done broke her 
bones an‘ is tuck up by de pTice, an‘ dar she is, nary moufful 
to eat since yistiddy, which is God‘s trufe, Miss Roma, an‘ nary 
$pec‘ o‘ fiah do it‘s cole nuff in my ‘pinion to plum free&e out 
de debil hisself,” 

Dolly had been encouraged while speaking by looks and mur- 
murs of sympathy from the tender-hearted “angels widout no 
wings.” 

“Poor little things!“ said one. “What a shame of their.fath- 
©r!” said another. 

“How dreadful to get drunk and beat her!” said another. 

“We must make up a purse.” said Miss Roma. 

“I have heard my papa say,” spake up the Senators daugh- 
ter, with lofty disdain, “that such people ought to go to the 
poor house — that‘s what it‘s built for.” 

“Eat, eat — as much as you can, there‘s plenty more,” said 
Miss Charlmonte, replenishing the three little hands, which 
were now eagerly stretched forth. 

More than any one, Dolly enjoyed seeing the children eat. 
She bent her body down to get her face nearer to theirs, her 
hands resting on her knees, craning out her turbaned head. 

“To be sho!” she cried, “dey is hongry ! Lor‘ ! Lor !“ Then 
she straightened up and rolled her little beady eyes from one to 
the other of the young faces before her, as it were, taking the 
measure of their hearts and charity. 

“Miss Roma,“ she said “ef any dese gran‘ young ladies wid 
rich pa‘s to keep 'em up so fine, always plenty ter eat an‘ ter 
w‘ar, and plenty good fiahs to wawm by, ef dey was jes ter come 
long wid me an‘ see dese po‘ chillens‘ ma, a-layin‘ up dar by 
her po‘ lone self in de dark, no fiah, nary- crum‘, no wittles, 
nary mossel, dey little harts would plum‘ melt in der buzzums, 
dey would, dat sho !“ 

This pathetic appeal was not without effect. The young faces 
looked sympathetic. The little Rosa Amelia was tearful. 

“I wish she had our supper — poor thing, “ she said, wiping 
her eyes. 

“So do I — we don‘t want it!“ cried Miss Jones. 

“What a splendid idea ! Do you really mean it ?“ cried Miss 
Cnarlmonte, eagerly. 

“She ‘11 think it dropped from Heaven, “ said one. 

“What do you say, little coz ?“ asked Miss Charlmonte. “Send 
it or eat it?“ 

Miss AsMor<J thought it was not for them to say. The girls 
had been invited to supper, if they didn‘t feel like eating, they 
could send it to the poor. She didn‘t wish anything and would 
not eat anything. 

Then one after another declared they weren‘t hungry one par- 
ticle and had a thousand times rather give it to the poor wo- 
man. 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


45 


Miss Smidge, who was always hungry, looked wofully cut. 
:She rolled her eyes from one to the other hoping that some voice 
would be raised to put down the foolish proposition. On the 
•contrary a voice was raised to carry it out, “Put it to the vote.” 
said one, and it was put to the vote. All in favor of the poor 
woman were told to raise their right hands. 

“Roma, you and I must not vote,” said Miss Ashford, who 
feared that it would not be fair to the girls to “beat” them out of 
their supper. 

Up went every right hand. 

“Charity has it.” said Miss Charlmonte. 

“Try it again, Roma,” said her cousin, “perhaps they would 
prefer eating first and sending what is left to the woman.” 

“The crumbs?” said Miss Charlmonte, scornfully. 

“Well anyhow, try it again,” persisted the cousin. Miss 
Smidge gave her a grateful glance; Miss Wedrington looked on 
with a disdainful smile. Dolly’s little beady eyes danced with 
-eager expectancy as she watched their faces. 

The vote was again taken and with the same result. 

“ That settles it..” said Miss Charlmonte, then she bade Kitty 
to inform Pat that if he wished to earn half a dollar he might 
come to her, she meant to go at once with Dolly and see the 
woman whose husband had broken her bones and left her to starve 
and freeze. She called on her cousin to help her re-pack the 
things in the box, after which she overhauled her boxes and 
drawers and made up quite a bundle of things, flannel skirts, 
stockings, dresses, etc., etc., then there came protests and remon- 
strances against her going out in the cold and the dark. Some 
looked upon it as dangerous, others as disagreeable and others as 
improper, but the self-willed young lady treated all objections as 
mere straws. > 

“ Danger? what’s to hurt ? Pat will keep off all the lions and 
tigers — Pat is strong ” 

“Bad men,” timidly hinted Rosa Amelia. 

“ They won’t look at me — I’m not as pretty as you little Rosa,” 
said the girl tying on her hood. 

“ I wouldn’t go out in the cold for all the beggars in town — it’s 
downright foolish,” said Miss Smidge. 

Kitty wanted to know what Mrs. Finisher would say to one of 
her young ladies going out that time of night ? The young lady 
laughingly replied that it did not matter, her grandfather had 
settled all that when he put her there; her grandfather knew 
she could take care of herself. So, hooded and booted and gloved 
the girl started off, Dolly, holding the two smaller children's 
hands, took the lead ; Pat, with the box., brought up the rear. 

A dead and disagreeable silence fell on the girls^after the little 
•cavalcade had disappeared. The faces were a study, they all, 
more or less, expressed something that made the sensitive little 
(beauty by the window feel very uncomfortable, especially Miss 


46 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


Wedrington’s, which seemed ready to break out in disdainful 
scorn. 

“ Cousin Roma is too impulsive,” she said, by way of apolgiz- 
ing. 

“ So charitable,” said the senator’s daughter, with a satirical 
smile, “so very charitable !” 

“She’s real good,” said Rosa Amelia, accepting the literal 
meaning of Miss Wedrington s words and not translating her 
smile. 

“ She’s quite too dreadful good for me !” said the outspoken 
Smidge, “ and whatever you girls mean to do I’m sleepy and go- 
ing to bed — so there !” she jumped up, with a loud smack set a 
kiss on Miss Ashford’s cheek and bounced out of the room. This 
broke the ice ; each girl followed the Smidge example and soon 
the beauty w'as alone. When out in the hall Miss Wedrington; 
whom some of the grls had dubbed Miss Mark Antony because 
once she had rendered Antony’s celebrated Shakespeare speech 
over Caesar’s dead body as they thought very finely, called the 
other girls around her for a small confab before retiring, notwith- 
standing they had each and all declared themselves very sleepy 
a moment before. 

“ Tow means to wake up snakes,” said the Smidge, seizing 
Rosa Amelia aoout the waist, “ let’s see what she’s up to.” 

Every girl ran up and stood in a circle around Miss Mark An- 
tony who was at the door of her own room leaning against the 
wall looking at them with a cool satirical expression. 

“ Well, girls, I only wanted to express the hope that none of 
you will feel any ill effect from the luxurious supper you have 
enjoyed.” 

“ Luxurious — cat’s foot ! I call it a downright swindle to fool a 
fellow so,” retonted Miss Smidge, giving vent to her pent up dis- 
appointment. Miss Smidge, the only girl in a house of six boys, 
had caught from the boys the habit of calling herself a fellow as 
boys call themselves and comrades fellows, though why the word 
fellow should be deemed more applicable to the male sex than 
the female may not be easily explained. 

“It is to be hoped,” resumed Miss Mark Antony, “ that none 
of us will take an appoplectic fit or have the night-mare before 
morning.” 

“ I wish to goodness gracious we had the ghost of a chance 
to get appoplexy— I never was so hungry, and the nasty beg- 
gars’ll stuff it ail down.” 

“As if plain meat and bread weren’t good enough for paupers!' 
My papa says that the poor house is built for poor people, and 
that’s where they ought to go.” 

“I hate niggers!” cried Miss Smidge spitefully. “I wish that 
ugly, nasty nigger had been in Jericho before she came here !” 

“Or had come a half hour later,” said Miss Rosa Amelia. 

“Half hour later ?” Miss Wediangton smiled with superior 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


47 


astuteness. “That high and mighty Southern girl took care of 
that.” 

“What do you mean, Tow ?” asked Miss Smidge, whose per- 
ceptives were never particularly penetrating. 

“You never suspected that it was a put up job? — just like you 
Sophy Smidge,” returned the Senator’s daughter. “Don’t you 
know that negro was too smart not to come just in the nick of 
time ?” 

“Good Gracious me ! Who’d have thought it, but what on 
earth did they want to do that for ? Why fool a fellow in that 
way ?” 

“Some people like to do just what no other person would ever 
think of doing and that Island girl is one of that sort,” replied 
Miss Wedrington, with so grand and convincing an air, every 
girl went to her pillow that night under the impression that the 
two girls from the South had disappointed their with malice 
a-fore thought, as the lawyers put it. 


CHAPTER VII. 

A MEETING AFTER SIX YEARS. 

Singleton sat on the driver’s seat, by. the side of the paunchy 
and proud Mr. Puffington, who always looked down on pedes- 
trians with something of the feeling which a king on his throne 
is supposed to look down on less fortunate people. Singleton 
tried the solace of a cigar, but even that could not banish the 
tormenting memories and reflections. 

“It’s deuced hard on a man,” he thought, “this sort of a thing 
to turn up — deuced hard just at this time. I suppose she wants - 
money, and money’s exactly what I want myself and can’t get. 
Confound it.” 

The expletive was uttered aloud. 

“What, sir?” asked the dignified Mr. Puffington, who had been 
puzzling his adipose brains, conjecturing what that low creature in 
the carriage was to his mistress’s brother. That she was there in 
the carriage, that he was driving her, was an insult to the family 
he served, and a worse insult to his own dignity. 

“Drive on,” was the curt rejoinder. 

“Here we are, sir !” said the insulted Puffington, a moment 
after, as he drew up his horses before the door of Singleton’s* 
lodgings. 

Singleton jumped down, opened the carriage door, and offered 
his hand to assist the woman to descend, but the hand was not 
noticed, the dilapidated woman got out by herself and followed 
the elegant gentleman into the house and up a wide and softly 
carpeted stairway into a luxuriously appointed bed-chamber. A 
glowing fire warmed and welcomed them. Velvet-lined chairs 
opened their hospitable arms, inviting to comfort and rest, but 


48 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


the pair that came in from the cold ind discomfort without, held 
such an amount of discomfort within their own breasts as no 
friendly fire or luxurious upholstery could alleviate. 

Singleton drew a chair close to the fire and invited the woman 
to sit and warm. Her face was spotted, purple and white, with 
oold, her frame shivered, nervous chills passed over it. She put 
her ill-shod feet on the fender, they were wet and clogged with 
snow, which melted and steamed. Her skirts, muddied, torn, 
and covered with flakes of snow also, steamed as the snow melt- 
ed — a vapor surrounded her, but did not conceal from Singleton’s 
disgusted eyes, the wretchedness to which she was reduced. 
Her eyes were fastened on the fire, the heat seemed to subdue 
and s6othe her. Singleton began to fear she might like it so well 
as to stay longer than he had intended she should. He grew 
uneasy. 

What if his nephews should return before she left? 

How would he explain her presence in his chamber? She sat 
so stilh, he thought she was falling asleep, his anxiety increased. 
He began to fabricate tales to tell the boys, anything but the 
facts of his past acquaintance with her before she had fallen 
to what she was. 

After waiting some time for her to come back from the desolate 
waste of memory in which she was lost, Singleton felt that he 
himself must break the silence and get the disagreeable inter- 
view over, he began by telling her how shocked and pained he 
was on finding her circumstahces. so changed, and begged her to 
believe if there was any thing he could do to assist her, he would 
dake great pleasure, etc., etc. 

She made no reply, she sat still, the steam from her wet gar- 
ments / making a mist around her. 

He asked her if she had not heard him? — if she would not 
speak to him ? Then, without raising her eyes from the glow- 
ing coals on which they were fixed, in a tone that seemed to be 
held down and suppressed, as if she feared it might break into 
passion or frenzy, she replied that she had not come to ask for 
assistance. 

Rigors passed over her frame as she spoke. Then he "won- 
dered what the mischief she had come for? Surely she could 
not be so insane as to fancy any gentleman would now desire her 
acquaintance ? 

After a moment he again spoke, he hoped she would not hesi- 
tate to apply to him if she needed assistance — to whom had she 
a better right to apply ? 

“Let that pass,” she interrupted, in the same suppressed and 
subdued tone, still gazing on the fire. What did she see in 
the coals ? What did she think she saw ? Did the innocent days of 
her girlhood cry out to her from the flames ? Did her wrecked 
womanhood mock and gibe at her from the glowing fire? 

Singleton felt a growing uneasiness, her strange manner made 
him nervous, had she reproached him, had she hurled on his 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


49 1 


guilty head hot anathemas, he could have better borne the inter- 
view, this he had expected, this he could have understood, but 
to sit there, silent and steaming, this sort of thing was not among 
his past experiences. Meanwhile the fear that his nephews 
would pop in at any moment, irritated him. How they would 
wink and crack jokes at his expense; he cursed himself for a 
fool, he never should have permitted her to enter his rooms. 
Impatient as he was to get rid of her, the past made him wish to 
do it kindly, and something indefinable about the woman, warned 
him not to arouse her, warned him to soothe and placate, if pos- 
sible. To this end, he murmured something of his ardent wish 
to atone for any wrong he had ever done. 

“It is too late,” she said, “the past is done forever, nothing 
can recall it, nothing change it.” 

“You are yet young in years, Drusilla, the past may be for- 
gotten and the future ” 

He did not finish his smooth and suave sentence, the woman 
gave him a glance that set his nerves in a tremor. 

“No !” she said, with steadiness, a steadiness that came of a 
strong effort to subdue the impulse to give way to emotions more 
violent. “No ; you speak falsely when you say I am young, and 
you know it. I ivas young six years ago when I first saw you — 
six thousand years have gone over me since then, and you know 
it.” 

“Tell me what you wish, Drusilla ? I am at your service — 
command me. It is getting late.” 

“Late?” The word roused her to a tigress. She turned and 
faced the handsome gentleman. The lamp-light fell full upon 
her face. The marks, vice makes on unhappy wretches, were 
too plainly seen. *It was Singleton’s nature to shun the unpleas- 
ant, he felt like rushing out and away from the painful sight. 

“Late? Yqu wish to hurry me away? Very well, I* shall 
not long detain you, I came to warn you.” 

“Warn — me ?” 

“Yes, warn you ! Why were you at that house to-night ? — by 
the side of the young daughter of that house? — you have done 
mischief enough, Arthur Singleton, to that family.” 

Singleton felt relieved. He could with perfect truth set him- 
self right on this point. He assured her he had gone at the in- 
vitation of her father, gone to inquire about her, he had been ab- 
sent in Europe six years, had heard nothing in all that time, 
and that was all. Then he asked why she had left her father’s- 
house. 

“Why?” she repeated, looking at him in a way he did not 
like. “Do fathers forgive daughters who bring disgrace on their 
houses ? Do fathers keep unmarried daughters who become 
mothers, in their houses?” 

The man was shocked. Something like a conscience pricked 
him . 

“And you never told me that !” 


50 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


“I — never — told you !” she repeated in a way and with a look 
that made Singleton shake. “I never told you ! Had you not 
fled the country? Had you not left me alone to face the shame 
and the ruin that rose up to overwhelm me ?” 

“I never dreamed of that! — I never dreamed of that!” he 
cried, then seeing that she relapsed into quietude, and stood by 
the fire again looking on it, he ventured to ask the sex of the child, 
and started back with a fresh shock when she replied that it was 
of that sex which should be strangled at birth. As if to apolo- 
gize for his curiosty he gently remarked, it was but natural he 
should feel some interest in the child. 

“Natural !” repeated she with scornful emphasis. She made 
a dash at the door as if to escape, then rushed back and fixed her 
wild, burning eyes on the handsome but troubled Singleton. 

“I .did not come to you, Arthur Singleton,” she said, panting 
with suppressed feeling, yet holding it down by hard effort, “I 
did hot seek you to talk of what has been — let that go. If I ever 
condemned you, I condemn myself more. I came not to speak 
of the child— men like you fling forth flashes of their lives with as 
little thought for the beings they endow with existence as that 
fire has for the sparks it throws out — sparks from the fire go up 
and are lost in the darkness of the night — human sparks are lost 
in the everlasting darkness ; but enough of that — I saw you with 
that young girl cf the house you had dishonored — I, in the street, 
unworthy to enter it 5 you. the tempter, stood by her side. I 
came to warn you — go not there again, seek that girl not again. 
That is all.” 

Singleton felt a chill of dread and fear creep over him, not at 
the words she spoke, but the manner of speaking them, the ex- 
presskm of her eyes — felt that sort or dread and fear one feels 
when alone with the insane who are liable to break forth in fren- 
zy. It occurred to Singleton that if he were to induce her to 
swallow a good dose of brandy it would settle her, either quiet 
her nerves or stupify her enough for a policeman to take charge 
of her. Once out of his room he cared not what might become of 
her. He brought out a bottle from a closet, poured out a heavy 
dose, and presented it. Eagerly her shaking hand received and 
eagerly she quaffed it. He tried her with another, but she 
waived the second glass aside ; again he proffered it — she struck 
it from his hand, a red fury in her eyes, and Singleton saw to 
his terror that instead of quieting, the brandy had inflamed. 
Fresh strength and increased aggressiveness were manifested. 
She glared at the furniture as if each chair and table were a hated 
foe, then she glared at the man as if in him she saw forty foes. 
She broke into a bitter and derisive laugh, which made Single- 
ton turn pale with terror. 

“Ha ! ha ! ha !” she cried, “You seem quite comfortable here, 
Arthur Singleton, comfortable as a nabob. Do you remember 
the time when I too, was comfortable ? I too, proud as a prin- 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


51 


cess ? A pretty princess I am now— ha ! ha ! Look ! Look ! 
Arthur Singleton !” 

Catching him by the shoulders, she whirled him around so 
that they both faced the mirror which hung against the wall, it 
reflected their two forms. What a contrast!" The man was 
ashen pale, but he was no coward, the bravest may turn pale in 
the presence of lunacy, and by this time Singleton felt that the 
woman was on the very verge of frenzy, a frenzy such as fre- 
quently attacks the followers of that brave old King Alcohol. 

“Ah !” she hissed, her burning eyes fixed on his reflection in 
the glass. “You are handsome yet, Arthur Singleton, you are 
as sleek and well-fed and daintily dressed as in that time six 
years ago — six thousand years ago, we stood together side by 
side, by the sea, and looked in its clear waters — six thousand 
years ago ! Do you remember, Arthur^ Singleton ? Oh ! we 
stood side by side, as now — both were handsome then. What 
has become of that woman — eh ? what has become of her ? The 
man is as handsome as ever — not a wrinkle more in his face, not 
a wrinkle in his heart, the same selfish, false heart — but the wo- 
man — Ah ! ha ! ha ! (The laugh was that of a drink-crazed 
creature) See what the woman is ! Look on her ! Look at the 
man — ha ! ha ! ha ! Oh ! look at her ! — Beautiful ! beautiful ! 
beautiful ! — with brandy and gin, and vice and despair ! Who 
first started that woman down to despair? eh ? eh ? Would you 
die for her now ? Would you climb cliffs to find flowers for her 
hair ? — Flowers?-flames of fire would suit her better now ! What 
do you think, Arthur Singleton ? Look at yon hag-half mad, half 
drunk — Is she like the young girl- 5 — a child in years, a child in 
experience, the daughter, of wealth, that you knew six years ago? 
Who l'aid his devilish devices to mislead her? Who wound his 
his net around her, and made plans to entrap her ? and brought 
to their execution the cunning gained by long practice, and large 
experience, and when he had subdued that ignorant girl to his 
will, when she became as cla}^ in the potter’s hand; when h,e 
knew that, soul and body, he possessed her, and ruled her, and 
that she lived only for him and through him, and when he had 
slaked his selfish desires, and dreaded the coming of a father 
whose keen eyes might detect the mean game he was playing, 
who fled in the night, without a word of warning, without a care 
for the creature he abandoned to despair and shame ? Fled like 
a coward, and put the wide oceaiT between him and the wretch he 
had ruined? — Who— ” 

“ I did not know — I call God to witness,” pleaded the man 
pale and trembling — for the woman yet held him in the strong 
•clutches of her fingers and still fixed him with the frenzy of her 
-eyes, “I call God to witness I never dreamed that you would 
suffer so seriously — I thought you would forget the dream we had 
indulged in there by the seaside ; forget one not worthy of you 
and bestow yourself on some more deserving man ; forget the 
little drama we played together.” 


52 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


“Played ! You call it play then (fire seemed to stream from? 
her eyes). Oh ! ho ! that’s the way you put it, eh? Play for you, 
and death, body and soul, for us, eh? Oh! when I come to* 
think of what I might have been but for that devilish play by the 
seaside, the blood flies into my head, the world whirls and 
whirls, and you — oh ! you ! ha! ha! you are a man, ha! ha! it 
was play to you, eh ? to you — smooth, cool, selfish, scheming, 
you ! — you !” — 

The last line was passed, the boundary line which separated 
the realm of reason from the realm of frenzy, with each emphatic" 
‘ ‘you’ ’the voice rose higher until it became a shriek, the last thread 
of reason was snapped and the wretched creature’s mind sub- 
merged in a flood of drunken delirium. She threw herself upon 
Singleton, bearing him backward by weight as well as fierce im- 
petuosity. She was a tall, full formed woman ; with each you T 
you ! YOU ! the shriek grew higher, the frenzy wilder. Single- 
ton was fully alive to the danger of his situation yet, at first, he 
fought only on the defensive — the education of the class to which 
he belonged had imbued him with the feeling that it was unfit- 
ting for a man to strike a woman, even in self defence, therefore 
he confined his efforts to warding off the blows she aimed at him ; 
he had faith in his own vigor and endurance, and scorned the idea 
that he could not gain control of a woman by mere strength 
without the necessity of resorting to blows; he did not at the 
moment fully realize the fact that frenzy gives an unnatural 
strength. In the desperate struggle that ensued they were drag- 
ged across the floor, over the furniture, striking against tables,, 
overturning chairs ; still Singleton refrained from dealing blows 
although his crazed antagonist, whenever she managed to free 
an arm and hand from his grasp, rained blow r s upon him with no 
weak force. It was more than Singleton could tamely bear. 
Pain overcame the principle, the pride of his sex in the matter 
of striking back ; he began to see that he could not save himself 
by merely endeavoring to restrain her ; she was too strong, too 
active, and too mad. Fear for his own life, as well as anger 
roused by pain, prompted him at last to put forth every effort to 
subdue and conquer this creature who seemed bent on doing her 
worst. He gave blow for blow with such telling force the woman’s 
face and bosom became purple and bloody, still her clutch was 
as tight, her vindictiveness as unconquered as at first. In their 
struggles they passed a writing desk ; on the desk was a small 
marble paper weight, a pretty carved deer reposing on the ground 
amid grasses. The animal looked with innocent eyes on the 
mad scene going on between these two human beings who had 
once sought each other’s presence as the one greatest bliss earth 
or heaven could give. The woman seized the paper weight as 
more efficient to deal vengeance than her own hands. The man 
seeing his danger, knowing a blow from such a thing, toy though 
it was, might prove fatal, attempted to wrest it from her grasp. 
Round and round they went in the desperate struggle. JThe* 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


53 


woman seemed rather to gain strength than to lose it. She bore 
him backward with all her might trying to throw him down. A 
blow with the antlered deer in her hand would have been no tri- 
fling thing. She bore him back toward the mirror in which they 
had looked on the reflection of their two forms, and with one su- 
preme effort flung him against it with such force and fury as 
crashed it into a hundred fragments. Singleton fell among the 
broken glass , at this instant she managed to wrest her right 
wrist from his grasp and dealt him a blow with the marble deer. 
The blood spouted from his temples ; he sank down and for one 
brief instant a feeling of rest seemed to be stealing over him, but, 
back of that feeling of rest was a consciousness that if he gave up 
to the rest and sank into the repose of insensibility it might be 
his last of life. This nerved him to struggle up, to stagger to 
his feet, ready for a further fight for life, but there was no need 
for further fight, the woman had fled. She fled at sight of the 
blood her own hands had drawn. Singleton sank into a chair 
almost insensible and quite exhausted. 

What can be more unnatural than hate between a man and a 
woman ? especially between a man and a woman who have once 
loved ? Think of it ! The two sexes of no creatures on earth 
save the human ever engage in angry conflicts. Does this come 
from the fact that the male of no creature save the human ever 
attempts to govern, to cow and to subdue its female? Even the 
tiger is gentle to the tigress and the lion is loving to the lioness. 
The two sexes of every species of Mammalia save the human, live 
together amicably, if not lovingly ; only male and female man 
present the painful, the disgraceful exception to the natural and 
universal law which holds the male and female half of the world 
friends if not lovers. What and where lies the cause of this ex- 
ception ? Does this disgraceful fact come from nature herself or 
from some social law imposed on the natural ? Half the misery 
of life arises from the wranglings between men and women who 
have once been on loving terms. Men and women who have 
never loved never pursue each other vindictively, if they dislike 
or hate each other they are content quietly and coldly to keep 
apart, but where there has been love and the love has gone and 
hatred has taken its place, vindictive persecution begins. Phil- 
osophers and physicians, psychologists and law makers should 
study the phenomena of human hate, should search for its cause, 
though they go down to the very foundations of society to dig it 
up ; though they uproot the very pillars of the social structure- 
to find what wrong, what laws untrue to the natural bent and 
bias of the human heart, what customs directly contrary to the- 
fundamental principles of the human being were, mixed in with 
the mortar which laid the foundations of our civilized society, 
which cemented every pillar on which rests the splendid super- 
structure 

Singleton heard feet coming up the stairway, the free, quick 
steps of youth, and the next minute the two handsome boys 


54 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


burst into the room. They had opened the hall door with a 
night key and met the woman at the foot of the stairs ; before 
they could recover from the astonishment so wild a figure caused 
blood-stained, bruised disheveled, as she was, she rushed past 
them out through the door into the street, the boys flew up 
the stairs to their uncle’s room. 

Subduing his excitement as much as possible, Singleton direct-, 
ed the alarmed and much amazed boys what to do for his relief. 
They brought napkins and water to bathe his blood-stained face, 
they helped him off with his coat and gave him a glass of wine, 
and when he seemed sufficiently recovered, plied him with ques- 
tions, the answers to which gave them to understand that a wo- 
man, crazed with drink, had assaulted him, — merely this and 
nothing more. 

“Had you ever seen her before, Uncle?” asked the younger 
boy, Master Fred, “and do you think she had any particular 
spite at you, Uncle ?” 

“Don’t worry Uncle with questions, Fred,” said the elder boy, 
who began to suspect there was something about the occurrence 
that made his uncle averse to speaking of it. 

“I dare say the police can find her from uncle’s description. 

“'Describe her, uncle. I am going to the police station.” 

The boy began to draw on his overcoat, his uncle told him he 
need give himself no trouble, he should not inform on the wo- 
man. 

“You don’t wish her taken up?” asked the astonished young- 
er boy, the elder boy was not so astonished, suspicions arose in 
his mind. 

“I certainly will not put myself to any trouble,” replied the 
uncle, in a tone that indicated annoyance. 

“But, uncle, you are too good natured, the woman is as dan- 
gerous as a wild-beast, she may come at you again. She may 
kill somebody.” 

“I can look out for myself, Master Fred,” replied his uncle, 
dryly. “I certainly do not intend to play detective for the po- 
licemen of this infernal city'. Let them hunt and catch their 
own criminals. You had better go to bed, boys. Good-night.” 

The two boys said “Good-night,” and walked out, but the 
younger was still much excited by the event. 

“The woman ought to be shut up, — uncle is wrong to let her 
off, if she had come after me in that way, I’d set every policeman 
in the city on her track. Uncle is too good-natured.” 

“Good nature, little brother,” replied the other, with a look of 
boyish conceit, as he settled himself comfortably in an arm- 
chair, propping his feet on a table, “good-nature, little brother, 
has nothing to do with the matter, nothing whatever. Don’t you 
smell a small-sized rat, niy young friend?” 

This knowing young gentleman lighted a cigar and put it be- 
tween his boyish lips. 

Master Fred stared in astonishment. 


BLA CK AND WHITE. 


55 


“A — what -he asked. 

“A rat — a small-sized rat. Why, I smelt it the very first min- 
ute I saw uncle all covered with blood — and the woman on the 
stairs’ You may depend uncle wouldn’t like to have that woman 
up in court. Smell anything now, little brother?’’ 

Master Jack who was sixteen — five years older than Master 
Fred, and whose ambition it was to be up to all tricks and ways 
of men, especially their tricks and ways with regard to what he 
considered manly sport, horses, dogs, dice, cards and women — 
inspired with this noble ambition, master Jack winked at his 
younger brother and looked in a knowing way, as he pulled out 
clouds, of smoke through his boyish lips, now and then varying 
his enjoyment by swallowing the smoke and blowing it out 
through his nostrils. 

Master Jack had been sent over to Europe to see the sights 
under his uncle's auspices — six months of that sort of schooling 
had immensely improved the young gentleman’s knowledge of 
the polite world, as exhibited by gentlemen of that class to 
which his uncle belonged. 

“Smell anything now, little brother ?” repeated Master Jack, 
with a provoking look, he seemed to be immensely amused 
at the astonished and indignant face of Master Fred 

“No, I don’t,” replied the latter, with angry emphasis, “and 
what is more, I don’t believe you do, either, and what is still 
more, I don’t believe there’s any rat or any mouse, or even so 
much as a dead fly for anybody to smell ; you are always trying 
to make a fellow think you’re so confounded knowing, Jack. 
I’ve not the least speck of faith in your smells and your winks.” 

“Innocent little Fred! — unsophisticated little Fred! — baby- 
girl Fred !” cries the elder in that teasing tone he so well knew 
always irritated the boy. “Why, little brother, you haven’t cut 
your eye teeth yet, your wisdom-teeth have’nt begun to sprout 
in the bottom of your jaw-bone yet, my boy !” 

He blew away the clouds of smoke and smiled satirically as 
he saw the sullen look creep over his brother’s brow. 

The brothers had been separated for six months, the elder in 
Europe with his uncle, the younger at school in his own country 
and this was their first meeting, and the younger felt that Jack 
was returning very soon to his old disagreeable ways. Feeling 
thus* he sat gazing at the fire, Jack took a pack of cards from his 
pocket and began to shuffle and cut, after the manner of his 
uncle. It was the ruling ambition of Jack’s soul to attain that 
manly dexterity in shufflng and cutting cards, which distinguish- 
ed his uncle’s friends across the water ; for the accomplishment 
of this noble desire, master Jack always carried a pack of cards 
in his pocket, and practised every convenient moment. 

“It’s deuced lucky,” said master Jack, glancing at the sullen 
face of his brother, “it’s deuced lucky for you, Fred, that you’ve 
got a bi* brother who knows a thing or two and can put you 
through in this city and take care of you and show you the sights 


56 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


until you get the hang of things yourself, and know the wires 
and the pins ; — if you wern’t looked after, Fred, the very horses 
in the wagons would mistake you for a perambulating bundle of 
grass and nibble at your verdant head. Now come — we’ll have 
a game. I’m not a bit sleepy.” 

Ordinarily Master Fred was willing enough to accept Jack’s 
invitation to a game of cards, but knowing that play was the 
dearest delight of Jack’s soul, he felt spiteful enough to refuse. 

“You had better,” urged Jack, “I know a new trick. I’ll 
teach you to do it.” 

Even this promise did not tempt master Fred, he again re- 
fused. 

“Why, what’s come over you, Fred ?” asked the other, aston- 
ished at this persistent resistance of the fascination of cards r 
“have you been to prayer-meeting? Have you sworn off?” 

“No I” replied the younger boy, beginning to undress. “I 
haven’t been to prayer-meeting, and I haven’t sworn off, but 
I’ve made up my mind never to play with you again — you are 
too confoundedly aggravating.” 

“Aggravating? why vfflat do you mean little brother?” asked 
the older boy, affecting innocence, “Haven’t I taken you over 
the city ? Haven’t I shown you the sights ? Didn’t I take you 
to the theatre, and out sailing in the bay ? Where’s your grati- 
tude, you exacting infant ? What more can I do?” 

“ Confound your theatre ! and confound your sailing ! I guess 
•I could have gone by myself just as well as not. I’m not talk- 
ing of theatres and boats, but rats and smells. What do you 
mean by telling a fellow T that he hasn’t cut his eye teeth? and 
his wisdom teeth have not begun to sprout? Yours haven’t be- 
gun either. I heard Dr. Dental say that people do not cut their 
wisdom teeth until they are twenty or twenty-four and you are 
only sixteen. That’s only four years ahead of me.” 

“ Hold your temper, Fred,” returned the elder boy, with a 
good-natured, conceited air peculiarly offensive to his compan- 
ion. He was still busy shuffling the cards. “I was only speak- 
ing metaphorically, little brother ; you know what metaphor is 
Fred? Haven’t you got into the Rhetoric class yet? Of course 
at your age, Fred, the mental nose, if I may be allowed the ex- 
pression, is not as quick at detecting the propinquity of the 
moral rat as — as a man’s — ahem !” - 

Master Fred looked at this man of sixteen with open scorn. 
“ If I am an infant at twelve,” he said, “ pray, sir, what are you 
at sixteen? just in your first breeches, I should say, and there’s 
precious little difference between a baby in his long cloths and a 
baby in his first breeches.” 

. Never mind, Fred,” said the elder, still with a good-natured 
air of superiority. “Never mind, my boy, each day brings you 
nearer and nearer to the age when your mental olfactories will 
smell out the the moral rats, when there are any to smell, as I 
am pretty sure there are in this case.” 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


57 


What do you mean by 1 this case?’ ” demanded Master Fred 
with boyish impatience. 

“ What do I mean ? Why didn’t you see that for some reason 
or other Uncle did not want that woman taken up by the po- 
lice?” 

“ What reason can he have?” asked Master Fred, with wide- 
open eyes. 

u Ah !” returned the knowing Jack with a wise look. “ That’s 
exactly what I’d like to know myself. You see, Fred, between 
you and me and the fireplace, I know a thing or two about Uncle. 
0 ! he’s one of the larks you hear tell of! a Don Juan of a fel- 
low. I saw him — I watched him on the ship as we came over. 
Confound me ! if there weren’t half a dozen women dead in love 
with him all at the same time, and confound me ! if a fellow 
could tell which of ’em he liked best. By George ! I found out 
he didn’t care a row of pins for a single one of ’em ! He’s sly, 
Fred, he’s the slyest fellow I know of, and he has a way of look- 
ing at a woman as if he was just ready to fall down at her feet ; 
and it’s all the same, even if he thinks she’s a regular dowdy all 
the same, too.” 

“ You don’t mean to say,” asked the boy, with an indignant 
face, “ that Uncle Arthur ever made love to such a creature as 
that we saw coming down the stair steps?” 

Master Jack laughed knowingly and satirically as he turned 
up the ace of spades for trump and then dealt the cards to imag- 
inary partners. 

“Now Fred,” he said, with a generous air of superior wisdom, 
•“ that’s what I call innocent; that’s juvenile. Don’t you know 
women don’t begin at the bottom of the social ladder? Don’t 
you know they generally get knocked down there, or else they 
slide down more or less fast ? Don’t you know, little brother, 
it’s quite likely that horrible hag we saw on the stair was once a 
nice, pretty-looking girl, fresh as a flower?- The mischief with 
women,” continued our young philosopher, once more shuffling 
the cards and once more making deals to imaginary partners, 
“ the mischief is they all stand — the whole sex you may say — 
stand in the most ticklish position on the tip-top of an inclined 
plane, and a confoundedly steep incline it is, and while the dear 
creatures keep up on that tip-top place we men take off our hats 
and make ’em polite bows, all the time doing our level best to 
coax ’em down from the tip-top pinacle — the apex you may call 
it — of respectability. We hold out a little money to ’em if 
they’re poor, and they mostly are poor, for you see we men hold 
the purse in this free and equal land, and by George! Fred, after 
we’ve got ’em to come ever so little way down that steeply- 
inclined plane, we never let ’em go back. No, by George! we 
fix it so they can't get back. We won’t let the others who are 
yet holding on by tooth and toe-nails to the tip-top pinnacle of 
respectability, take ’em back. Not we. We just draw such a 
deep line between the tip-toppers and the sliders down, we never 


58 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


let ’em get together again. In this way, Fred, my sonny, we 
men always have on hand a class of women, who, to all intents 
and purposes, belong to us, just as much as the slave blacks in 
the South belong to their masters. In fact, more so, for there’s 
no law to make us keep and care for these sliding-downers, after 
they get old and ugly. We just kick ’em out to sink or swim, 
and by George ! they’re sure to sink, for there’s nothing they 
can take hold of after we’ve done with ’em.” 

The younger boy stared but said never a word ; the elder, tired 
of shuffling cards, put the pack in his pocket, propped his feet 
again on the table, lighted another cigar, and went on with his 
instructive philosophy. 

“Now, we men,” continued the moralizer, blowing graceful 
clouds through his handsome nose, “we men may slide plumb 
down to the bottom of all the social ladders ever built, and we 
can climb up again if we choose, and are just as well received by 
the woman tip-toppers as if we never had slid down. In fact, 
we may jump down or roll down in a drunken spree, and when 
we are tired of the bottom mire, we can pick ourselves up, shake 
ourselves free of the outside dirt, climb right up and all the wo- 
men tip-toppers will hold out their hands and help us up. That’s 
the difference between a man and a woman, Fred.” 

The young moralizer puffed out clouds of smoke and watched 
them float away in a complacent, comfortable frame of mind. 

“Bully for us !” exclaimed master Fred, after taking in the 
full meaning of the discourse. It was the first time the boy had 
a realizing sense of the immense advantages enjoyed by the sex 
to which he belonged, which so elated his boyish heart, it quite 
banished the ill-temper in which he had indulged. 

“But I say, Jack,” he cried, his eyes sparkling brightly, 
“what’s the reason the women can’t get out of the mire as well 
as us men ?“ 

“We men won’t let ’em,” said Master Jack,sententiously, re- 
moving his cigar to speak. 

“Yes, I know ; but why won‘t we let ‘em ?” 

Now, this was a problem which the astute master Jack had 
never tackled, yet he did not like to show his ignorance. It was 
a principle with Jack never to admit to his brother that there 
was any question he could not clearly explain. 

“Well, you see, Fred, you are most too young to understand,” 
began the elder boy with a wise look, “there are a good many 
reasons, bubby, why women can’t ever get up when once they’re 
run down ; and there are a good many reasons why we men 
won’t let ‘em get up. First and foremost, they’re not men, they 
are only women. That l s the strongest reason. Then another 
reason is, there 4 s no use in a woman turning good after she’s 
gone to the bad. Who wants anything to do with such a wo- 
man? Not mew, of course. You see there are always plenty of nice 
fresh women for us to look after. What’s the* use of 
getting the old bad ones mended up? We’d rather have 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


59 


the new ones. So, you see after a woman’s gone and made a 
high old dissipated dandelion of herself like that creature that 
was here v to-night, she’s no more business on this earth, and the 
sooner she hands in her tickets and takes herself to the regions 
beyond, the better. Now, we men may sow wild oats and tame 
oats, but a woman — of course, you see, bubb, eh ? A woman 
can ’t^ come back to tame oats after she’s run after the wild.” 

“Y-e-s,” replied the boy, a little dubiously, as if not exactly 
understanding the whole of this vast subject quite as clearly as its 
young expounder. 

“Now a man,” resumed handsome Jack, puffing out clouds of 
smoke, — “a man, you see, little bub, when a man’s tired of sow- 
ing wild oats, he can always go at something else, but what can 
a woman go at?” 

“Some sort of work?” suggested the younger brother. 

“No, not at all. That wouldn’t do. The chief work of wo- 
men is to please men. Every man knows that. Well, these 
mended-up women can’t please us, because we prefer the fresh 
ones, and we can’t permit ’em to mingle with nice women. They 
might tell on us, and set the nice women against us. Thus you 
see, we men are forced to draw a deep line between the nice, fresh 
women and the women we’ve — ruined. Don’t you see?” 

“Y-e-s,” hesitatingly assented the boy, his mental faculties 
striving to grasp the whole grand theory, or masculine policy to- 
ward the female half of the world. After some reflection, the 
whole sublime scheme burst upon his mind and lighted up his 
young face. His eyes sparkled with triumphant joy. 

“Wouldn’t I hate to be a woman !” he exclaimed, “O, would- 
n't I !” 

Jumping up, he went to the dressing table, got the hand-mir- 
ror, came back, sat down and began closely to inspect his young 
face to see if there were any visible signs of that hirsute growth 
which is the badge and insignia of American sovereignity. 

“Hate-to-to-be-a-woman ?” repeated Master Jack, gazing med- 
itatively through the clouds about him. “I should say so ! One 
might as well be a dog and done with it as be a woman !” 

“Better, I should say,” muttered the younger boy, passing 
his forefinger delicately over his upper lip, in the hope of feel- 
ing the growth his eye could not discern. Was it irritation caused 
by disappointment at not detecting by sight or touch any sign 
of that growth which would proclaim him a member of the mas- 
ter class that made the boy pettishly exclaim that he did not see 
much use for women anyway. 

The elder boy complacently replied : 

“We men find ’em useful now and then — not as companions, 
though,” he hastened to explain. “They’re poor company — not 
worth a cent as company — don’t know the world ; and as for 
cards — uncle says some women in Europe play cards, but Amer- 
ican women are not sharp enough. Still, when there’s no real 
business on hand,' we men like to be amused by ’em sometimes 


60 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


when they’re young and pretty. Uncle says Turkey’s the coun- 
try for men to live in. Here you see a man has to practice etti- 
quette and all that with ladies, wait on ’em to public places, fan 
’em ; pick up their hankerchiefs when they choose to drop ’em, 
give up seats to ’em, etc., etc., which is a confounded bore to a 
fellow. Now, in Turkey, women never go out in company with 
men. They’re shut up in harems. It isn’t the etiquette for a 
man to talk of women. We are not supposed to know of their 
^existence. They are kept in the background, just as in this 
■country, in polite society, we are not supposed to know of the 
existence of such creatures as the one we met on the steps to- 
night. Don’t you see, little bub ?” 

It will be perceived that this young gentleman had made good 
use of his time during the six months he was in Europe under 
tho tutorage of his uncle. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE THREE STUDENTS. 

On that same Christmas eve, in the same city, and about the 
same hour of night, three young medical students were met to- 
gether in social confab. They met in the rooms of two of the 
number, said rooms being in that large brick “bodin’ house,” to 
which Dolly had referred as once having served as a boarding- 
liouse for the young ladies attending the Finisher Institute, be- 
fore that Institute had enlarged its capacities to lodge its own 
pupils. 

These students were fast friends, although of widely differing 
Pastes and opinions and from widely separated States. Charles 
Edward Charlmonte was from South Carolina ; Richard Wilmer 
from the State of New York ; Calvin Calyx from Canaan-four- 
Uorners, a small village in New England. Charlmonte was the 
•only son of a wealthy South Carolina planter, whose home was 
on one of those beautiful Islands lying off the coast of the main 
land,' famous for the production of fine sea-island cotton. Wil- 
mer was one of a large family of very limited means. Calyx 
was almost penniless, had not money enough to finish his 
•course of study, and was daily and nightly turning over in his 
mind, schemes whereby he could earn enough to put him through 
^college and enable him to start out in life with a diploma, auth- 
orizing him to kill or cure the sick. Charlmonte never expected 
to practice medicine, the study of it was merely a part of his 
^education. In the South it was not unusual for "the master and 
the mistress of large numbers of slaves, to acquire some knowl- 
edge of diseases and their treatment. Although it was the cus- 
tom to employ physicians by the year to attend to the negroes, 
.still so numerous were their fancies, so strong their faith in 
““conjurers,” in “charms,” in “side-stitches,” and other mys- 
terious ailments, to each of which it was absolutely necessary to 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


61 


give due sympathy and attention, that it was generally deemed 
advisable for the master or the mistress to be able to give sensi- 
ble advice and harmless prescriptions when the medical man 
was not on hand. 

Calyx sat by a small table on which was a small heap 
of small bones, he was putting them together in the shape 
of a human hand. Wilmer was drawing mournful notes from 
his fiddle, although the most cheerful in nature, he was fond of 
the saddest music. Charlmonte wak reading: without looking 
up from the page, he cried out, 

“Stop your scraping, Wilmer, I wan’t to read you some lines 
-which you and Calyx will like, for their argument, but which I 
think abominable. 

Wilmer stopped, his bow still in the air, and glanced at his 
companion’s book. 

“Go on,” he said, “I see you have the greatest poet, living 
or dead — perhaps with one or two exceptions.” 

“If the greatest, also the worst,” said the Southerner. 

Wilmer laughed, “Oh ! ’ he cried, tossing his fiddle and bow 
on the bed and squaring himself for a discussion, discussions 
were his dearest delight — “I see you have been reading the 
1 Scotch Reviewers.’ Such a lot of Puritan nonsense as they do 
talk about, the ‘danger’ and the ‘evil,’ and all that, is absurd, 
and the world will recognize it as merest trash in a few years.” 

“Well, hear this, and even you will admit there is no good done 
by such writing.” 

“Go on.” 

Charlmonte read aloud : 

“Life ! Toil! And^wherefore should I toil?” 

“Wherefore, indeed,” interrupted the young man with the 
bones, “if in the creation of life the principle of benevolence had 
any part? Toil and poverty make the misery of humanity.” 

“Toil and poverty bring all the blessings we have, ’’said Wilmer. 

“Withhold your comments, both of you, until you have the 
text,” said the reader. 

“And wherefore should I toil because 
My father could not keep his place in Eden? 

What had I done*in this?—” 

“Pertinent query,” remarked the cynic with the bones. 

The reader continued : 

“I was unborn, 

I sought not to be born, nor love the state 
To which that birth hath brought me. Why did he 
Yield to the serpent and the woman ? Or 
Yielding, why suffer ? What was there m this ? 

The tree was planted, and why not for him ? 

If not, why place him near it, where it grew 
The fairest in the center ? They have but 
One answer to all questions, 'Twas His will, 

And He is good. How know I that ? Because 
He is all-powerful must all-good too follow? 

I judge but by the fruits, and they are bitter.” 


62 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


1 ‘Bitter indeed,” muttered the student with the bones, the 
cynical solemnity of age in his voice and eyes. 

“Now, according to my views,” began the young Southerner,, 
“this whole poem is objectionable because it is in the question- 
ing vein. Such questions do no earthly good, and serve to un- 
settle faith, as the ’Scotch Reviewer’ says.” 

“ ‘Unsettle faith !’ Why should not faith be unsettled ?” cried 
the disputatious Wilmer, tossing back his brown hair and turn- 
ing up the cuffs of his shirt, as if preparing for a combat. “Can 
you give one single good reaeon why faith should not be unset- 
tled ? I can give you a dozen, all going to prove how beneficial 
it is to humanity, at longer or shorter intervals, to shake up hu- 
man faiths, turn them topsy-turvy, and critically look them over, 
discarding such features as the wisest among us have outgrown. 
People who progress in knowledge outgrow old faiths, as they 
do old clothes. They need newer ideas to suit their larger men- 
tality. If that poem shakes old faiths, let ’em shake. It could 
not possibly do a better work. I hope it will keep on shaking 
until it cracks the hard strata of superstition, lets in the light of 
reason, and whirls about the unsound old dogmas until they’re 
pulverized to crumbs and blown away out of sight, and purer 
and truer ones take their place. Poems, like Cain, are pro- 
phetic.” 

“Of what, pray 

“Poets are the forerunners of logicians — poetry precedes sci- 
ence — genius pierces to truth, logicians dig it out,” said Wilmer 
oracularly. 

“Milton, for instance,” suggested the cynical Calyx. “I would 
like you, Wilmer, to mention one grand truth that Milton’s po- 
etic genius pierced through error to discover and show to the 
■world. His picture of rebellion in Heaven, and the tumble-down 
of the rebels into Hell, may be good poetry — I don’t like it, but I 
will not deny the poetry — but where is the truth? How old, 
old, and trite is the story ! On one side the effort to rule, on the 
other, the effort to resist. Tyranny on one side, yearn- 
ing for freedom on the other. The struggles between these two 
principles have reddened the earth with blood, and made more 
misery than any other one thing on earth. For my part, I al- 
ways sympathize with the side that struggles for freedom — the 
rebel side.” 

Charlmonte said he sympathized with the law-and-order side, 
he thought that Milton’s “Paradise Lost” teaches a grand moral. 
The angels fell because unwilling to submit to the government 
of God. 

“That,” said Calyx, “is from the victor’s standpoint. Wait 
until you hear the story from the conquered side.” 

“Hitherto,” said Wilmer, “poets, even the greatest, have 
not shown much power of reason, they have usually ac- 
cepted the superstition, whether religious or political, of the 
times they lived in. Homer, Virgil, Dryden, Dante, Milton, 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


63 


Shakspeare, are examples of this fact. All of these had poetic 
power far beyond their contemporaries, but no better reasoning 
faculties. They all accepted the theological and political dog- 
mas of the day, without a dissent. Byron and Shelley make a 
break in that bad rule. In their minds were gathered and con- 
centrated all the wide-thinking skepticism which was scattered 
and diffused through the mentality of the age in which they 
lived, their genius reproduced that daring thought in a concrete 
form, clear-cut and luminous as diamonds. Both were of the 
aristocratic class, yet both were democrats in principle, both 
hated human bondage, and loved human freedom. Byron’s 
scorn for the monarch of England was the principle cause of his 
unpopularity. Shelley’s scorn for the unjust laws of England 
was the cause of the persecution that pursued him. Poems like 
“Cain,” “Queen Mab,” and “The Irish Avator,” are prophetic 
of the time when Poesie and Reason, like lovers, will walk 
hand in hand over the earth, strewing flowers and facts in their 
path.” 

Wilmer went to a shelf and took down a bound volume of En- 
glish magazines. Finding what he wanted, he said, 

“Listen to what the Scotch fellow said of ‘Cain’ whet) it first 
came out. See how aghast the Scotch Presbyterian mind was 
before the genius which so dazzled their vision, they were forced 
to clap their hands before their eyes and cry out w r ith pain. 
Eyes unaccustomed to the searching sun-light of reason, are blind- 
ed and pained by its sudden flashes. And those Scotch fellows 
whose brains were bound with Calvanistic ligatures, really were 
scared, at first, angrily, then whiningly, called on the poet 
to cease his daring flights — to cease darting flashes of light on 
their darkened visions, agitating and alarming their indolent re- 
pose in Old Superstition’s temple.” 

“0, come !” cried Charlmonte laughing, “Hold in your Peg- 
asus, Wilmer, or you’ll get a fall. Read the passage, and let us 
judge for ourselves.” 

“All right — here goes : 

‘He (meaning the poet) is a volcano in the heart of our land, and a 
cloud that hangs over our dwellings—’ ” 

“ ‘Volcano,’ and ‘cloud,’ ” criticised the Southerner. Is that 
Jeffrey?” 

“Yes, Jeffrey himself. Rather reckless in similes. Review- 
ers do not expect to be reviewed, and so feel free to commit any 
literary crime — 

‘He (again meaning the poet) voluntarily darkens and influences our 
atmosphere with perpetual fiery explosions and pitchy vapors—’ ” 

“In my opinion, a very true criticism,” interrupted the South- 
erner. 

Of course,” replied the reader, always ready to fire back, “and 
‘Cain’ is one of the pitchiest and most fiery. No wonder it made 


64 


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the true-blue Scotch Presbyterians cry out in affright. A little 
further on and Jeffrey talks excitedly of the poet’s ‘lurid light,’ 
and ‘baneful influence,’ and other powers of a Satanic nature. 
The light may be lurid, but it served to show the cracks and 
crevices in the old tumble-down theological temple to those wha 
try to think, or those who really do think it a perfect structure. 
Men have lived so long in theological shadows, their organs of 
vision are weakened, strong light gives pain.” 

“You admit the pain,” replied the gentle Southerner, “how 
then, can you justify or defend the poet, who causes the pain? 
Is it kind to inflict pain on harmless fellow creatures ? — needless 
pain ? If pious minds are happy in the faith and do not see the 
cracks, as you call them, in the theological temple in which they 
worship, is it not a ruthless work to give them pain by shaking 
and unsettling their faith ? Admit that the poet is right — not 
that I think he is right — but you may admit, for the sake of the 
argument, that he has the logic, that believers are in error, 
would not ordinary kindness, ordinary benevolence, forbid those 
flashes of light which unsettle faith and cause thereby great 
pain?” 

“The surgeon that sets a broken limb gives the subject great 
pain. Shall he let that limb grow crooked and the patient go 
lame all his life, rather than cause him pain?” was Wilmer’s 
reply. 

“The cases are not similar,” returned the Southerner. The 
subject in your case would undoubtedly suffer more pain by not 
Raving his leg properly set. I see no similitude in your illus- 
tration.” 

“Wait until I am through. The schoolmaster who forces his 
pupils to study, gives pain for the time. The pupils would en- 
joy games and sports far more than study, yet we must admit 
that a substantial benefit accrues to the pupil from the pain of 
coercion to which he is subjected. The poet, whose genius 
pierces to the truth, by the flashes of that genius, forces the bigot 
to reason. The force causes some pain, just as the schoolmas- 
ter’s coercion forces the pupil to the pain of study ; but benefit 
is bound to come, if not to-day — if not to the bigots of the day, 
the next generation will feel the influence. Each generation 
g?ins by the sufferings of the past. But to return to the ‘Scotch 
Reviewers’ — Jeffrey says : 

‘It (Cain) will give great offense to pious minds, and maybe the means 
•of suggesting the most painful doubts to hundreds of minds that other- 
wise might never have been exposed to such dangerous disturbance.’ ” 

“A very true observation,” said the Southerner. 

“True enough, doubtless, but I utterly deny the inference 
that Jeffrey! draws, viz: that such disturbances are dangerous 
and injurious to humanity. You cannot deny, Charlmonte — no 
reflecting man can deny, that doubt is at the bottom of all pro- 
gress. What is doubt but a dissatisfaction with what is, and a 
desire for something better? That desire leads to the search 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


65 


after the better. Doubt stimulates the human mind and leads it 
to investigation — leads to truth. Had no doubt ever agitated 
the minds of men, where now would be the race ? Would we be 
one whit above the natives of Australia? Yet this time-serving 
Scotch reviewer reviles this action of the mind, and has the as- 
surance to advise and admonish a God-ordained preacher of 
Truth — a poet is a God-made preacher and teacher — and be- 
cause the poet does not act on Jeffrey’s time-serving advice, he 
scolds and berates after this fashion. Hear him : 

‘Never was an author so gently admonished, so kindly entreated to 
look more heedfully after his opinions. ” 

Think of it ! The impudence of any ordinary man admonish- 
ing a God-made poet ! Think of it ! The arrogance of a mere 
reviewer — a man of the time and place — undertaking to curb 
and control the genius that belonged to all time and all places ! 
But, putting out of sight the difference between the power of the 
two men, suppose they were on precisely the same mental plane, 
why should the one undertake to admonish the other to look to 
his opinions ? What assurance had the one more than the other 
that his opinions were true and the other’s false ? Has any man 
on earth the right to dictate to another what he shall or shall 
not think ?” 

“ Jeffrey never claimed the right to dictate to Byron what he 
should think,” said the Southerner. 

“He claimed the right to dictate to the poet how he should ex- 
press his thought, and that is the same thing. Jeffrey under- 
took to admonish and direct the great poet how and what to 
write. Can impudence be more monstrous ? And then, because 
the poet does not take his advice — does not write as Jeffrey 
thinks, and not after his own inspiration, Jeffrey makes loud 
complaint. Listen to what this assuming gentleman says: 

“We are not bigots. We have not been detractors from Lord Byron’s 
fame, nor the friends of his detractors, and we tell him, far more in sor- 
row than in anger.’ 

And then Jeffrey goes on to tell the poet he must cease to write 
as his genius impels, and must write to suit the notions of the 
public ! In all the history of literature I know of nothing more 
impudent and impertinent than this.” 

“I do not see it in that light,” said the Southerner. Surely a 
man cannot be called impertinent for expressing his opinions as- 
to the moral or immoral tendencies of a poem, or any literary 
work. I consider that Jeffrey would have been recreant to his 
duty as a reviewer had he not done so, freely and frankly.” 

“Have I ever denied that? Did you understand me to say 
that I blamed Jeffrey for thinking and saying that Byron’s poems- 
were of an immoral and dangerous tendency ?” 

“I certainly did.” 

“Then I have made myself illy understood. I admit that you 
are right when you declare that it was Jeffrey’s duty to write 


66 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


and publish his true opinions. That I could never object to. 
Jeffrey had a right to warn people against the poems, if he con- 
sidered them injurious, but he had no right to admonish the 
poet, as if he — Jeffrey — were the superior being ; he had no right 
to reproach the poet for not taking his admonition and advice — 
for not ceasing to write after the dictates of his own genius — and 
not writing to suit the people’s ideas. Had Byron obeyed Jef- 
frey’s admonition and toned the fire of his soul to suit the bigots 
of the time, it would have been a base prostitution of his own 
genius. I rejoice that he paid no heed to Jeffrey’s or any other 
person’s impertinent advice.” 

“I differ from you there, Wilmer,” said the Southerner. “By- 
ron could have respected his contemporaries without crippling 
his genius. It is not the duty of a poet to attack the religious 
opinions of his age and country.” 

“Ah !” returned the disputatious young fellow, with a look 
that seemed to say, “Now I have thee on the hip.” “That is 
your opinion, and was Jeffrey’s and the great body of the Eng- 
lish people’s — what then? Must a man give up his opinions 
because he is in the minority ? Minorities are more apt to be 
right than majorities. All history proves this. The great ma- 
jority of Jesus’ contemporaries were opposed to his divine 
truths and wanted to force him to their idea, and not according 
to his own inspiration. Socrates was in the minority. All teach- 
ers of truths new to the ignorant masses, are in woeful minority. 
Jeffrey here takes great credit to himself because he had not 
been as loudly abusive as others. Listen : 

‘We have been no detractors ; he (Byron) has no priest-like cant, or 
priest-like reviling to apprehend from ns, and we do not charge him with 
being the apostle of Satan, and we testify that his poems abound with 
sentiments of great dignity and tenderness as well as infinite sublimity 
and beauty ; but the general tendency we believe to be in the highest 
degree pernicious.’ 

What is this but detraction?” 

“Surely,” cried the Southerner, “you can not blame a man 
for saying he thinks a thing is pernicious, if he does think it?” 

“Of course not. I do not blame Jeffrey or any other reviewer 
for saying Bryon’s works are pernicious. That is a right every 
one has. What I do blame him for is that he attempted to bully 
Byron into writing to suit the notions of those who did not like 
his writings, and was eternally and very impertinently admon- 
ishing and entreating him to change his style. What is more 
arrogant than this : 

“We believe {we, the Edinburg Reviewer), that his writings are in the 
highest degree pernicious,” 

As much as to say : 

“That ought to settle the question, my Lord Poet, that ought to bring 
you down to your marrow-bones, and make you beg pardon for your past 
poems and put out your future poems after the true-blue pious Scotch 
Presbyterian style.” 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


67 


Now, I affirm, it not only showed stupendous, but asinine arro- 
gance to fancy that his ‘ We believe’ would or should weigh with 
the poet one atom.” 

“Jeffrey’s arrogance,” said the student who was engaged with 
the bones (the skeleton hand was almost completed) “was but a 
part of that wide-spread intolerance which pervaded the whole 
British community. A little reflection might have suggested to 
Jeffrey that it was barely possible the poet was right, and he 
and the British public were wrong, and that he, Jeffrey, and the 
British public had no moral or legal right to dictate to the 
poet.” 

“Exactly my views, Calyx,” said Wilmer, well pleased at re- 
ceiving so capable an ally. “It is evident to any unprejudiced 
mind that if the poet had believed, as no doubt he did, that the 
general tendency of his works was not only not pernicious, but 
was elevating and purifying, he not only had the moral right to 
continue to write and publish his own thoughts, but it was his 
bounden duty to do so. I think it very likely that Byron thought 
that the general tendency of Jeffrey’s ideas were pernicious, yet 
he was not so arrogant as to thrust his admonitions on the Re- 
viewer. Listen to this, and see if it is not detraction : 

“ ‘How opposite to Byron is the system and the temper of the great 
author of Waverly, the only living individual to whom Lord Byron must 
submit to be ranked as inferior in genius — still more deplorable inferior 
in all that makes genius amiable in itself and useful to society.’ ” 

“ That ,” said the Southerner, “I call a just and true compari- 
son— not detraction.” 

“At any rate,” replied Wilmer, “it is an opinion that I would 
stake my head, will not stand the test of time. I predict that 
Byron will be read long after Scott is forgotten, or laid on the 
shelf, out of fashion, as Richardson’s novels are out of fashion 
now.” 

“Nine men out of ten,” replied the Southerner, “will agree 
with me that Scott was a greater genius than Byron, and even 
the terith man will admit that Scott’s writings are far more ben- 
eficial to humanity.” 

“That tenth man would not be me,” returned Wilmer. “I 
believe that Byron’s thoughts will exert a better influence on 
humanity than those of any writer of this age.” 

“A most extraordinary belief.” 

“Will you let me demonstrate it?” 

“If you can.” 

“You will not deny — ” began Wilmer, “you will admit, that 
the exercise of the thinking, the reasoning faculties, is beneficial 
to humanity?” 

Charlmonte admitted the proposition after a moment’s hesi- 
tation. 

“Very well,” said Wilmer. “Your objection to Byron, and 
Jeffrey’s objection, is that his works unsettle faith and awaken 
doubts in the minds of those who are free from doubts — minds 


68 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


that are as still and stagnant as a pool over which no breeze ever 
blows. If activity of mind* is better than stagnation, it follows 
that anything which arouses it to activity is beneficial. There can 
be no progress without agitation. Doubts turned pious Pagans 
into pious Christians. Christianity, even infidels must admit,, 
is better than Paganism. Doubts caused the break of the Pro- 
testants from the Catholic church. You will not deny that 
Protestantism is better than Romanism. Doubts as to the truth 
of the prevailing form of religion spurred on Martin Luther.” 

“The old rascal !” muttered Calyx, as he put the finishing- 
touch to the skeleton hand. 

“Rascal or not. Luther did a good and great work for human- 
ity. He gave old Superstition a blow from which it has never 
recovered. Was it not well for us that Luther’s faith was shaken 
— his piety pained by doubt ? Thus, you see, if Christianity is 
better than Paganism, if Protestantism is better than Romanism, 
we owe the improvements to the doubts which unsettled faiths- 
learned in childhood Destroy doubt and the world will stand 
still. Doubt drives minds on in search of Truth. They may 
never reach that infinite Good, but may forever approach it.” 

At this moment, a pounding at the door turned their attention. 
Wilmer opened it. A blast of bitter cold air came in and with 
it a woman. The young students stared. She was a pitiable 
spectacle to look at, her hair disordered, her eyes wild and 
wretched, her face bruised, the bosom of her dress blood-stained, 
her skirts muddied and torn. The struggle with Singleton had 
not improved her appearance. She looked around dazed and 
dazzled by the light. Charlmonte, who never forgot his graceful 
courtesy of manner, placed a chair by the fire and politely in- 
vited her to be seated. She had a hunted, anguished, but de^ 
fiant look, the snowflakes on her skirts melted and streamed 
down on the floor. With kind courtesy, Charlmonte inquired 
what they could do to serve her? 

“Which of you,” she asked, looking from one to the other, 
“is the doctor who believes there is no devil and no hell ?” 

Had a thunderbolt fallen, the young men could have been no 
more astonished. Was a creature like this going into a polemi- 
cal discussion ? 

“What do you wish to know ?” asked Wilmer. 

The woman briefly stated that she was tired of life, that she 
wanted enough poison to end it, that she was able to pay for it 
and wanted a deadly dose, she had been fooled once, she did not 
wish to be fooled again. She produced from her pocket the lit- ' 
tie locket set with seed pearls and asked if it would not buy 
enough poison to settle her. 

Wilm'er looked at the picture in the locket and then at the 
woman ; he passed it to Charlmonte who also looked from the 
picture to the woman. Charlmonte passed it to Calyx, he also* 
looked from the picture to the woman. 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


69 


“ It is mine — it is mine,” said the woman misconstruing their 
actions, “ it is not stolen— it belongs to me.” 

“We see that it is yours in more senses than one,” said 
Calyx, coming forward in front of the woman and looking in- 
tently at her, “ you are the original ; the picture is yours. How 
long since this was painted?” 

The question stirred in her heart a mad mutiny of memories,, 
she jumped up and started toward the door, Wilmer stood before 
it ; she rushed back : 

“ How long ? a thousand years — a thousand — thousand years !” 

“ As this is your picture,” said Calyx, “ and it has been 
painted a thousand years, you must be just one thousand and 
sixteen years old,” 

“ What do you want ? What do you mean to do?” she cried 
glaring at him. “ Give me the stuff and let me go.” 

“ It is cruel,” said the Southerner, “ to trifle with her misery. 
Let us do what we can for her and let her go.” 

Charlmonte took out his purse. What could be done for a 
creature in her condition, hut to fling her a little money and get 
her out of sight ? 

Calyx put his hand on the woman’s shoulders and gently bade 
her to sit down, there was plenty of time for the poison business, 
that could be got over in five minutes with the right sort of 
drug. The woman yielded to the student and sat again by the 
fire. 

4 ‘You must see,” said Calyx, fixing her with his magnetie 
eyes, “you must see it is necessar} r that we should know 
something more of you before we give you the poison.” 

“Wbat is the use, Calyx?” asked Charlmonte, distressed 
“You see she is in no condition to answer. May I ask your ac- 
ceptance of this 

He laid a few pieces of gold on her lap, she drew back her 
head and hands, a wild horror in her eyes and shook them 
from her dress as if they had been serpents. They rolled and 
rattled on the floor. 

“TJiay have turned to adders,” she muttered, in a hoarse- 
whisper, glaring at them with strained eye-balls, “yellow adders, 
that sting and poison.” 

After a minute she looked up at the three young faces before 
her. 

“I did not ask you for gold— I want no gold. Do the dead 
need gold? Give me the stuff I want, and let me go — go — go !” 

Calyx wrote a few lines on a scrap of paper and passed it to 
the other two, they nodded in assent. The lines stated that the 
woman seemed to be on the verge of mania-a-potu, that a police 
station was on his way home, that he, Calyx, would take her 
with him,— she needed to be in a hospital. Wilmer proffered to 
accompany him, Calyx refused, there was no need, he said, he could 
easily manage the patient— he had been studying certain works 
on Mesmerism in the Indies, and felt himself quite a proficient 


70 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


in the practice of that singular power. Fixing the woman with 
his eyes, he bade her iollow him, — said he would give her 
what she needed. The door was opened, the cold was so sharp, 
and the woman so inadequately dressed, Charlmonte seized a 
large traveling shawl that lay on the foot of the bed, threw it 
over the woman’s head as she started out. 

“Had I not better go with you, old fellow ?” offered Wilmer. 

“No, really there’s no need. Good-night.” 

The two disappeared in the darkness of the street. 

“What an odd fellow Calyx is !” said Wilmer, heaping fuel on 
the fire. 

“We should have gone with him,” said Charlmonte. 

“But he really did not wish any company — I saw that. For 
some reason he wished to go by himself.” 

“But I can see no possible reason.” 

“Nor I — yet I know he had one. If you’ll notice he never 
asks us to visit him. I dare say his lodging is nothing to boast 
of, as if we cared for that! My poverty never troubles me ! I 
know I shall have a long and a hard fight to overcome it, but all 
life is a fight, anyhow ; the most of us fight lor bread, some for 
position, some for health, no one is satisfied with what is, every 
one is striving to attain something he has not. Life is strife — so 
what odds whether the strife is to overcome poverty, or any 
other obstacle? Good-night, old fellow, I’m off.” 

“ Wilmer rolled into bed and sank to sleep. Charlmonte fol- 
lowed. 


CHAPTER IX. 

dolly’s mind becomes curious on a philological question/ 

While the young ladies of the Finisher Institute were listening 
to Miss Mark Anthony, Miss Charlmonte, the negress, the Gaff 
children, Pat and the box, were making their way through the 
snow-covered streets to the Gaff’s lodging. The Southern girl 
was as fleet of foot as a deer, the negress swift, Dolly clutched 
two little hands and bore their owners along. They had not far 
to go. When they hove in sight of the little grocery store kept 
by Mrs. Flood, in which a light was burning, Dolly sung out 
cheerfully, “Dar hit !” — not meaning that the grocery was “hit,” 
but “hit,” that is, the place they were seeking was across the 
street from the lighted grocery. The next instant she came to a 
sudden halt and cried out “Dis hit !” 

They were before the door of a two story tenement, not a light 
was to be seen in it. 

“Jes stan ? stock an’ stone still, Miss Roma,” said Dolly, fum- 
bling in her pocket for a key, “till I gits de do’ open an’ lights 
a candle, you see my room, Miss Roma, is de fustes one on de 
fustes flo’.” 


black and white . 


71 


The door opened and Dolly dived into the dense darkness, 
and pretty soon emerged with a tallow candle, which served to 
show the way up a narrow stairway. Dolly took the lead, cal- 
ling on the others to follow. On the landing, moans from some 
dark recess were heard, they moved to the sounds and found 
themselves in the Gaff apartment. There was neither light or 
fire, hut the candle in Dolly’s hand showed the destitution and 
poverty of the place. The woman Gaff, was in a wretched bed, 
covered by a poor quilt, she had been cruelly beaten, bruised 
and her ribs broken by her drunken husband. The law had 
taken the husband off, locked him up, and left her to starve or 
perish with cold. 

“She had a comfble bed onst,” said Dolly, “but dat bed’s 
done drunk up long ago, an’ de cheers too, I don’t see nary 
cheer to offer de lady to set on.” 

“Never mind the chair,” said Miss Charlmonte, “what we first 
want, Dolly, is a fire, we must have a fire.” 

“Der ain’t de fust grain o’ coal as I ken see,” returned Dolly, 
looking around, then she offered to fetch a bucket full from her 
room and start a fire in the stove. The room was small and 
Miss Charlmonte soon had the satisfaction of seeing the stove 
red hot, and an agreeable warmth pervaded. the apartment. 

Pat opened the box, the woman was fed and a doctor sent for 
to look after her broken bones. Dolly’s blankets were borrowed 
on the promise of “bran new ones,” from Miss Charlmonte. The 
tired children, covered up warmly, fell into a delightful sleep. 
Dolly said she would keep the fire up all night, and “jes qurl up 
in a blanket behin’ de stove an’ sleep till mornin’.” 

After these arrangements and the doctor had attended to the 
woman’s bones, (he said she would be about before many days), 
Miss Charlmonte prepared to return to the Institute. Something 
in Dolly’s eyes arrested her steps — it was a speaking hunger, 
such as one sees in a dog’s eyes when he is hungry and watch- 
ing his master eat. 

“Why, dear old Dolly,” said the girl, going to work to slice 
turkey and bread, as well as she could with the dull horn-han- 
dled knife, the best the Gaff establishment afforded, “here you 
have been running all night in the cold, tiring yourself out, and 
haven’t yet tasted a bite of the ole Island turkey! — Aunt Rachel’s 
cookery too.” 

Dolly took the proffered food with a beaming face. 

“Lors, honey !” she said, “I ain’t one bit hungry ! nary bit ! 
I eat a mos’ monstus big, bustin’ supper o’ sassages an’ fried 
homly jes fo’ I went to prar meetin. I ain’t a bit hungry, but 
sister Rachel’s cookin is monsus temptin’, sho ! I’ll jes tek a 
bite for sister Rachel’s sake.” 

Dolly and Rachel were church sisters. 

Left alone with the Gaffs, Dolly ate with intense relish ; the 
children and their mother were fast asleep. Dolly busied her- 
self, taking the things from the box and arranging them around 


72 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


the huge turkey which was on the table; that done, the delightful 
warmth diffused a happy contentment over Dolly’s mind and 
body, she felt easy about the condition of the one she called the 
“born lady,” having no doubt but that the rich, handsome gen- 
tleman in whose carriage the born lady had sailed off, had pro- 
vided for her comfort. Filled with these pleasant reflections, 
Dolly “qurled” herself up in a blanket behind the hot stove and 
dozfcd happily. From the open stove door, a ruddy light made 
the scene cheerful, but the negress was not destined to an unin- 
terrupted rest during the remainder of the night. She pricked 
up her ears at the sound of heavy steps coming up the stairs. 
Two pairs of feet made the steps. 

“Who dem dis time o’ night?” said Dolly, her heart giving a 
bound; visions of policemen haunted her brain, having regain- 
ed her freedom without a trial, she feared she might be pursued 
and taken back. The heavy feet came along the narrow hall and 
stopped at the Gaff door. With ears pricked forward, mouth 
open, and eyes staring in terror, Dolly listened ; there was no 
lock on the door, she knew it could be pushed open with a 
touch. 

“ A confounded good smell comes from this room,” said a deep 
masculine voice on tfhe other side of the door. 

“ There’s nothing good in there,” replied another voice, 
“they’re a lot of poor devils, starving I guess.” 

Dolly recognized this last voice as belonging to a lodger in the 
next room, a dissipated locksmith, who worked when sober and 
half starved when his sprees were over before he again found em- 
ployment. 

“ I’ll trust my nose and bet on its testimony,” said the coarser 
voice. The door opened and a head was put in, then the body 
followed ; a broad shouldered six-foot fellow with a heavy black 
beard. When Dolly saw he was no policeman her fears van- 
ished; she was angry at the intrusion. Both men came in ; the 
big six-foot man looked around with astonishment. The poverty 
of the room, the luxury of the edibles on the table, lighted up 
by the ruddy glow of the fire, were certainly in striking contrast. 
The two men stared, they did not see the turban ed head and the 
phosphorescent eyes watching them from behind the stove like 
a beast in its lair. 

“ What the H — 1 !” muttered the big six-foot fellow, making a 
move toward the table, “I’ll be hanged, Carson, if this isn’t 
enough to tempt a hungry man and I’m most starved.” 

Quick as a black panther and almost as fierce the negress 
sprung from her lair to the defense of the food. Planting herself 
in front of the table she faced the hungry eyes of the intruders 
her own darting flames, her lean body swaying from side to side* 
her claw-like hands waving to and fro, the fingers opening and con* 
tracting with the instinct to tear. The big man broke into a laugh • 
it struck him as a funny joke that a stringy, witchy looking ire* 
gress, whom he could floor with a back-handed bloyr, should se 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


73 


herself up against him. This gentleman was a Southerner and 
through and through was permeated with the idea of the im- 
mense superiority of the white race and the immeasurable inferi- 
ority of the black. That there is a difference few will dispute, 
still that difference is not immeasurable. 

“ What the deuce!” he cried, after his laugh, “ do you keep 
black panthers about you, Carson?” 

“ I’d most as soon get a panther’s claws stuck on me as hers,” 
replied Carson. “ You’d as well come along ; you’ll get no good 
here.” 

“ I’m starved, man, and it tempts a fellow,” said the big man, 
looking hungrily at the food. 

‘‘You keep off!” screamed the negress, waving her hands to 
and fro before the table with the view of protecting as much of it 
as she could. “You keep off! Go ’long ’bout yo’ own busi- 
ness, you got no business yer. You seed ’em a starvin’, did you 
fetch ’em a bite ? Nary time. Keep yo’se’f off ; dem as you 
.ain’t fitten ter tie der shoe string done been an’ fotch dis feed, 
an’ you po’ white trash comes a nosin’ roun’ for ter gobble it up 
•eh ? Nary crum’ does you git, so git yo’se’f off — git ! git” 

Carson, the locksmith, was from a New England village and 
totally unacquainted with negro nature. Dolly’s talk, though 
perfectly intelligible to the man from the South, appeared al- 
most like giberish to Carson. The expression of her little viper- 
ish eyes, the motions of her ears, her whole appearance struck 
the locksmith as wierd and uncanny. The other man’s first 
feeling at sight of the negress’ opposition was amusement that so 
puny a creature, so inferior a creature should set herself against 
him ; the next moment he resented the idea that one of a class so 
infinitely below him should have the insolence to oppose. 

“ She’s a mad witch,” said Carson. “ Come or she’ll scratch 
you.” 

The big man was angry, he swore he was hungry and meant to 
eat and no impudent nigger could scare him. 

“ Nary crum’ does you git!” screeched Dolly, every nerve in 
her black body alert and alive with rage. “Nary crum’! — not 
ter save yo’ low down life ! — nary crum’ ! (waving her arms with 
wild fury) You spec gran white folks like Miss Roma Charmon 
an’ Miss Conny Ashfud gwine fetch dese goodies what come all 
de way from de Islan’ for low down po’ white trash ter gobble 
up? — Clar out ! clar out !” 

“What do you want to stir up that witch’s temper for? 
She’ll scratch and bite worse than any black cat !” said Carson. 

The big man stood as if spell bound and stared at the ne- 
gress— a change had come over him, he thought no more of the food. 

“ Stop your confounded foolery !” he yelled at last. “I’ll 

not trouble your d d grub ! Tell me where it came from ! 

How did it come here in this hole?” 

“ Grander white folks en eber you seed fotch it yer — dat’s 


74 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


how it corned,” said Dolly, still maintaining her high belligerent 
aspect. 

“ Do you mean to say that Miss Roma Charlmonte brought 
that stuff here ?” 

“ What’s dat ter you ef she did or ef she didn’t? Miss Roma’s 
a born lady, de fus’ quality in de State o’ Souf Callina, dey’s got 
hundeds an’ hundeds o’ niggahs, a islan full o’ cotton bale, an’ 
barls an’ barls o’ gole — dey dont want nuffin ter say to sech as 
you — nary wud ! so clar out ! — clar out ! — clar out ! 

Hillyard, which was the big man’s name, pulled at his beard 
in angry perplexity. 

“ Here’s a rum go, Carson,” he said, “to stumble on my 
own victuals — sent from my own home — here in this infernal 
house.” 

“What’ll you get by standing there, making that wild cat spit 
and snarl ?” returned Carson. “ I thought you wanted to talk 
business to-night ?” 

“ So I do ! and by thunder ! this thing pricks me on to the 
work like a dozen pitchforks !” 

The two men went out. Dolly’s wrath subsiding she returned 
to her corner, wrapped herself in her blanket and resolved to 
keep on the watch lest they should came again. Mrs. Gaff had 
waked up and watched from her bed the negress’ valorous de- 
fense of the table, such was her exhaustion and the soothing in- 
fluence of warmth and a satisfied stomach, she immediately went 
to sleep again. Squatting behind the stove in the hottest place, 
Dolly leaned her head against the wall which separated her from 
the men and listened to the sounds going on within. There was 
only a board partition, every word could be distinctly heard. 
Carson built a fire, his companion walked about the floor impa- 
tiently. 

“ It’s enough to make a fellow howl,” said the latter, “ to see 
one’s own food and not be able to lay hands on it.” 

“ What do you mean Hillyard?” asked the locksmith, poking 
the fire to make it burn. 

“ I mean by thunder !” roared the angry Hillyard kicking a 
chair out of his path. “ I mean it’s a d d shame for a gen- 

tleman to be in my fix ! All that stuff in there came from my 
place, cooked by my niggers ! I tell you its rasping. I ought to 
be the master of fifteen thousand a year, I ought to have slaves 
to come at my beck and call, carriages to ride in, my pockets 
full of gold — credit at the bank; — all this would be mine if I had 

my rights and by ! all this will be mine if you’ll help me 

get my rights and a cool $5000 it’ll be in your pocket for your 
help.” 

“ There’s no fellow I know of wants $5000 any worse than I 
do,” said Carson, “ show me how and I’ll go for it fast enough 
you may bet on that.” 

“I’ve stood this thing, ’’continued Hillyard walking about rest- 
lessly, “ for fourteen years, I knew it was a* d d shame, but 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


75 


they had the edge on me ; I could do nothing, now I see a chance 

and by ! I mean to sail in and win ! and if you do your part 

Carson it’ll be a young bonanza for you too.” 

“ Explain yourself— I’m all in the dark,” said Carson. 

“You heard that d d black witch didn’t you?” 

Up to this moment the individual referred to had paid no par- 
ticular attention to what they were saying ; the word black witch 
startled her, she pricked up her ears and muttered under her 
breath : 

“You’sdar? eh? I’syer! eh? Blab on — blab on.” 

“ Yes I heerd, what of it ? I didn’t see much sense in what 
she said.” 

“You didn’t understand — I did and thats where the devil comes 
in ; she said that fine food came from the island, brought here by 
Miss Roma Charlmonte.” 

“ Well ?” said Carson. 

“ Wot dat ?” muttered the negress under her breath, her ears 
pricked forward listening and trying to understand. 

“ Well ! You exasperating old bundle of hard knots !” cried 
Hillyard, “ did I not tell you I was married to a rich widow with 
more than a hundred negroes and a cotton plantation?” 

“ Yes • you also told me you had parted from the widow, and 
that the widow’s father owned the negroes and the land and you 
could not touch them.” 

“ So far correct. Now we come to business. That old cur- 
mudgeon can’t last long, he’s had one stroke of paralysis, the 
next will carry him off certain, when he is gone I mean to step 
in Master of the place.” 

“How’s that?” asked Carson. “ Won’t you have a pipe Hill- 
yard, smoke’ll soothe your feeling?” 

Pretty soon Dolly knew that both men were solacing them- 
selves by smoke, it penetrated and filled the air of the Gaff 
room. 

“You see my wife',” said Hillyard, in a quieter tone, feeling 
the influence of the noxious weed, “My wife’s an only child — 

the whole estate, every acre of ground and every d d nigger 

will fall to her when the old man dies. Now, what’s her’s is her 
husband’s — I’m her husband, and by , I mean to stay her hus- 
band ! There’s no divorce law in my State, thank Heaven ! 
She can’t get free of me; a man’s the master of his wife’s prop- 
erty, unless — now mark that unless — unless the old fellow leaves 
a will tying it up so that he can’t touch it.” 

“Which he’ll be sure to do, if he doesn’t want you to come in 
as the master,” said Carson, puffing out volumes of smoke. 

“There’s where I want you to come in, Carson, there’s where 
you can earn your $5,000, if you’ll execute a neat little plan I’ve 
laid out,” said Hillyard eagerly. 

“Go on,” said Carson. 

“Of course I know the old fellow has a will, and I know 
where he'keeps it, and I want you to get hold of it. You see 


76 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


I’ve got a friend down there — a relative, who keeps me posted ; 
the existence of the will is well known on the island — he has left 
every red cent to his granddaughter, which of course, cuts me 

out intoto. It’s a d d shame! I feel that I am perfectly 

justified in getting ahead of the old rascal, and I will get ahead 
of him ! There they are, rolling in wealth, feasting and flourish- 
ing like princes, and here I am living from hand to mouth, one 
day a pocket full of money, the next, not a d d cent.” 

“The way with all gamblers,” philosophically remarked Cas- 
son. 

“Hasn’t a husband the natural and legal right to his wife’s 
property ? Answer me that, Carson, yes or no ?” 

Carson gave a grunt which his companion accepted as assent. 

“Every fool knows that the moment the ceremony is over 
what’s her’s is his. Well, here, I’ve been cheated out of my 
lawful rights by that ill-tempered old rascal, her father, for four- 
teen years. Can anybody blame me if I get my rights by any 
means that come convenient ? The law would give it to me, if 
that old curmudgeon would let the law have its way and die 
without a will. I consider it my right and my duty to act with 
the intent of the law, and see that my wife inherits the property 
she ought to inherit as her father’s only child. The old man 
has no right to cut my wife off without a cent just to spite me. 

He ought to die without a will, and by he shall die without 

a will — at least, no will shall be found.” 

“Go on,” cried Carson, in the same quiet way. 

“You see, if he dies without a will, I am, to all intents and 
purposes, his heir — everything comes straight to me through my 
wife. If he leaves a will — ” 

“Your fat’s in the fire,” said the slow Carson. 

“Exactly ! Now you see how it is — I don’t intend a will shall 
be found.” 

“How’ll you help it ?” 

“Easy enough. Suppose I have a wide-awake friend on the 
place, suppose that friend knows exactly where that document 
is kept? Suppose in the hurry and flurry of sickness and death, 
that document falls into his hands? I tell you, Carson, it will be 
the easiest earned $5,000 you ever heard of. Your trade’ll help 
you on, in fact it was your trade that made me fix on you for the 
job. You can get up a tale of misfortune, Shipwreck, anything ; 
on a large place like that there are always a hundred jobs in your 
line, gates to be fixed, hinges to put on, machinery put in order. 
Wages needn’t be an object, and those rich fellows never mind a 
fellow’s feed, they’ll keep you a year if you make yourself the 
least bit useful. You see they don’t live as we do here, they’re 
not afraid of robbers, they don’t lock their doors at night, and 
seldom lock drawers or desks, niggers never bother such things, 
and there’s nobody on the island to steal ; niggers never steal 
anything but pigs and chickens and melons. 0, I know the cus- 
toms down there.” 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


77 


'“They’ve got penitentiaries down there, I guess.” said Carson 
dryly. 

“Yes, but where’s the danger? Keep your eyes open and 
have the keys ready, and when the next stroke of paralysis 
comes, as come it must very soon, in the midst, of the row and 
rumpus, you’ll unlock the desk, get the document, hide it in 
some safe place, until it’s safe for you to come up and give it to 
me; why should they suspect you? If it were me, now, the 
thing would be different, they don’t know but I’m dead and bur- 
ied, but I’ve been kept posted all the time. If they suffer by it, 
it’s their own fault, I’ve not been treated right. I made a fair of- 
fer, as fair as a gentleman could make. I wrote to the old man 
after my wife left me, that if he’d allow me half the proceeds of 
the plantation, I’d. go away and give them no further trouble.” 

“He didn’t accept that liberal offer?” 

“Accept h 1 ! He scorned it, sent my letter back with only 

one line written upon it : ‘.You are a fool as well as a knave !’ 
Do you wonder that I swore to get even with him ?” 

'. “Rather hard on you, I confess,” said Carson. 

“A pretty way for a man to treat his daughter’s husband ! If 
you get that document and I come into my rights, I reckon it’ll 
make the old coon turn over in his grave and gnash his old teeth 
and pull his white hair, and serve him right, too,” said Hill- 
yard, gloating over the idea. 

“I guess it’ll be a little harder to get that document than you 
think for, Jack,” said Carson, knocking ashes out of his pipe, 
feeling in a little better spirits under the influence of the tobacco 
poison to which he had accustomed his system. 

“Dockymen,” muttered the negro listener on the other side 
•of the wall. “What is dem dockymens?” but shake her head 
as she might, she could get no glimpse of their meaning. 

“It’s a pity,” said Carson, that you didn’t pull friendly with 
your wife until the old man pegged out.” 

“I’m not the sort of a man, Carson, to truckle to a woman,” 
replied the gallant husband. “Do I look like a man to be tied 
to a woman’s apron strings ? Do I look like a man to go whin- 
ing around a woman to get permission to do this or that ? No 
Sir-ee ! I’m one of the men that knows his rights, and knows a 

man’s the head of the family. Why, by ! I hadn’t been 

married two months before my wife began to make trouble. I 
needed a little cash, I was going to the races, and needed it bad- 
ly, and hit on the easiest plan to raise the wind. I just caught 
up a likely young nigger, took him to the city, put him in a 
trader’s mart, told the trader to sell him for what he’d fetch ; 
such a hulla-ba-loo as my wife set up you never heard, and for a 
trifle like that ! She plainly said that no gentleman in her fam- 
ily had ever sold a nigger, they would as soon think of selling 
one of their own children. I told her her family might go to 
thunder, that I meant to do as I pleased, and the sooner she recog- 
nized the fact that I was the head of the family, the better it 


78 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


would be for her. Would you believe it, Carson, by the time 

I got back home from the trader’s yard, the d d nigger was 

there, back on the place ?” 

“How did that happen ? Run away from the trader?’’ 

“Run away h 1! No! he was brought away by that ras- 

cally curmudgeon, my wife’s father. You see, just as soon as 
the old fellow got wind of what I had done, he put off hot and 
fast for that trader’s mart, ordered the black rascal to follow him,, 
which he did grinning, and came back grinning, sitting side by 
side with the old fool in the family carriage, and sent for me to 
come out and speak to him, which I did, though mad enough at 
his high-handed impudence, undertaking to meddle with my 
affairs because I had married his daughter. Well, I went out to- 
see him, and he coolly informed me, right in the face of that 
grinning nigger, that it was a penitentiary offense to steal nig- 
ger in his State, and if I ever stole another one of his he’d pros- 
ecute me, and put me where I’d be taught some useful trade. 
Then it was that for the first time I found out that he had never 
given his daughter any legal right to the land and niggers he 
claimed — the title still vested in him. Consequently my hands 
were tied. However, I resolved to make the best I could of a 
bad bargain, we had a splendid cotton crop that year, I never 
saw finer ; 600 bales of the best sea-island I ever saw. I took 
great interest in the picking, ginning, and baling of that cotton,, 
expecting to put ten thousand dollars in my pocket. I was 
check-mated there, too ; that confounded old wretch, my father- 
in-law, sent me a written notice not to meddle with the cotton 
on his place — his ! when he had given it to his daughter years 
before ; her first husband considered it as his property, but he 
was a spoony fellow, content to stay at home tied to his wife’s 
apron strings, so they never told him it wasn’t his cotton and 
his niggers and land, and he died in the belief that he was a 
wealthy man. I’m not that sort of a tooth pick, they couldn’t 
keep me tied down there looking after the sick niggers. I like 
manly sports, the turf, the excitement of billiards, cards, 
dice — they couldn’t understand me, they’re a hum-drum set 
down there on that island anyway, and think to live on one of 
their big plantations with half a thousand niggers to look after, is 
the way they live in Heaven.” 

“You couldn’t get your wife to see things in the way you 
did ?” 

“Get her? why no ! she was horrified at a fellow’s going to 
the races, she thought cards wicked. But I could have managed 
my wife very well if she hadn’t had that infernal father of hers 
to back her up in her capers and I could have managed him if 
he hadn’t had the law on his side and flung the penitentiary in 
my face to checkmate my moves. There’s where he had me. 

You see Carson, a man may do what he d d please with his 

wife’s property, but they call it stealing if you touch your wife’s 
father’s property. I tell you it was like an infernal rope around 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


79 


a fellow’s neck, it jerked me back whenever I started to go on. 
It s enough to drive a man mad! and the meanness of the 
thing ! they’re like the dog in the manger, not willing to see a 
iellow enjoy money, because they didn’t know how to enjoy it 
themselves. I don’t see what good their money does ’em, they 
don’t know how to spend it. They don’t know anything of life, 
not ad- d thing ; they vegetate — that’s all ! and here’s the 
rightful owner, who could get something out of the money, who 
knows what life is, cheated out of every dime the plantation 
brings in. 

Hillyard restlessly walked the floor as he talked. 

‘‘ It is rather hard on you Jack,” said his companion sympa- 
thizmgly , “ I don’t wonder you want to get hold of that import- 
ant document.” 

“ Dockymen?” muttered the perplexed Dolly slowly shaking 
her turbaned head in a vain effort to understand the word so 
new to her ears. “ Hit beats my time, hit do — dockymen — dock- 
ymen!” 

After which reflection she again applied herself to listening. 

Carson asked if there had been a child by the marriage? 

“No! by !” replied the other angrily. “There’s where 

my bad luck came in ; if there’d been a child I’d have made that 
child a lever to move them. The law gives a man control of his 
child — all the grandfathers and wives in the world cant wrest 
that power from him. A child was my great hope after I left the 
place ; I waited in the neighborhood to see if fortune would favor 
me that much, but she didn’t.” 

“ Why did you leave the place ? you at least got a living out 
of it ?” asked Carson. 

“Well you see after I was ordered not to sell the cotton and 
the niggers, of course the niggers began to think themselves as 
much masters as I, and I just determined to take down their im- 
pudence a little, so I went for some of the most audacious one 
day an’ thrashed ’em like fury ; they were house servants, and 
you know, or rather you don’t know — you being a Yankee — how 
house servants are petted and pampered in that part of the coun- 
try/, —you never heard of such a row as it kicked up; if I had tied 
up my wife and flogged her to an inch of her life there’d have 
been no more fuss. My wife went into hysterics, the doctor was 
sent for, the rest of the negroes set up a howl like so many wild 
w T olves, in fact the whole plantation w T as in a turmoil. I took 
my hat and went off a fishing and by thunder! when I came 
back the house was quiet enough — not a soul stirring about it. I 
went to my wife’s rooms, and by the hoky-poky ! she’d packed 
up her duds and gone ; I called the servants who lived about the 
house — the last one was gone too ! The housemaids, the cook, 
the coachman, the carriage driver and the carriage too. The 
overseer lived about a quarter of a mile off, I went to him for in- 
formation — he didn’t have any to give, except that he had seen 
the carriage drive off in the direction of the old man’s. I 


80 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


mounted a horse, rode over to the old man’s and asked for my 
wife. My. father-in-law came on the porch to receive me look- 
ing as grim as a gridiron and told me I couldn’t see my wile that 
she had made up her mind to live with her father and that 1 cer- 
tainly should never step foot in his house. The house servants 
were all with him. He condescended to say that if I chose to 
live on the plantation and hoard at the overseer’s I could do so 
as long as I behaved myself and took care not to meddle with the 
negroes or the cotton. I asked him if he expected a* gentleman 
could accept such terms as those ? He grinned and said he 
wouldn’t offer them to a gentleman, and that’s the last I ever 
saw of the old rascah Oh ! if there had come a child, I’d liaye 
wrung and twisted them finely ! I’d have made them loosen their 
purse strings and get down on their marrow bones.” 

“ Still,” said Carson, “it’s a pity you hadn’t gone slow and kept 
your wife in a good humor until her father got out of the way.’ 

“What was I to do?” argued the injured husband. . “Ho w 
should I know that the old fellow had the ropes on me in that 
way ? I knew whatever was my wife’s was mine. ' I never w e nt 
beyond the letter of the law; they got me by a trick— it was a 
scoundrelly trick to go back on a gift in that way — he had given 
the property to his daughter, if I had been contented to stay on 
the place and vegetate as they did, I dare say I might have staid 
there to this day and lived a prince of the plantation, but that 
didn’t suit me ; I wasn’t made to dangle on to a woman’s skirts, 
or bob about among nigger cabins, listening to the groans and 
grunts of superannuated apes and by the Lord ! Carson, the day 
you meet me here in this room with that document in your hand 
your fortune as well as mine is made !” 

“ Dockymens? ’ repeated the listening negress, “ dat ar dock- 
ymens is de devil to fine out. Lor ! lor ! how I guine get dat 
dockymen ? Row I guine get dat fetched dockymen critter ?” 

Then after wagging her head several times in deep and dense 
perplexity, a sudden resolve moved her. Slipping off her shoes 
which were heavy and thick and which screeched loudly Dolly 
stole as softly as a cat whose paws are shod with fur, to the ^oor, 
openedit, silently went down the stairway carrying her shoes with 
her. 

“ I guine git a good look at dat ar dockymen man,” was her 
thought, “I wants to know him when I sees him agin.” 

When at the bottom of the steps she put on the shoes which 
made a hideous creaking, boldly marched up the steps and on by 
the Gaff door and tapped at Carson’s. 

“ Who the mischief is it this time of night?” she heard Hill- 
yayd ask. 

“ We’ll open and see,” said the locksmith going to the door. 

They did open and there stood Dolly smiling and curtseying 
with her very best plantation politeness and a face as innocent, to 
use her own description, “ as ary suckin dove ” and “as smilin’ 
as a basket of chips.” 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


81 


The two men stared. 

“ Servant mars,” she said dropping another curtesy and look- 
ing the very perfection of negro amiability. 

The two white men could hardly believe their own eyes, could 
hardly believe that this innocent, unsuspicious, amiable looking 
creature was the black fury they had left brandishing her claw- 
like hands before the table so menacingly. 

Dropping another curtesy of humble conciliation Dolly 
stretched out one black hand with a cob pipe in it. 

‘‘Please massa a fillin’ o’ ’bacca,” she begged, “ I’s plum 
out’en ’bacca, an sech a tone down toofache I feels a comein on ! 
de se’f-same ole toof whar gin me sech a sight o’ trouble las’ 
Chrismas jes bout dis same time o’ night — nufhn does no good to 
dat toof ’cepin a good smoke, an I’s plum outen ’bacca — a fillin 
please massa,” grinning and dropping another courtesy. 

Carson gave the tobacco and she dropped another curtesy, and 
another, and then another by way of thanks and then she turned 
to go, 

“ Stop,” cried Hillyard, the suspicion darting into his mind, 
that she might have been listening, that he had talked too 
loudly. 

Dolly turned back her black face beaming with innocent good 
humor. 

“ What’re you doing up so late? Why aren't you in bed 
asleep ?” 

With the most innocent expression Dolly replied that she had 
been in bed and fast asleep when her tooth began to jump “jes 
like it wanted to jump clean outen her mouf, den she jes got up 
an sarch an sarch and sarch for de bacca an could’n fine none, an 
den comes up to get a fillin from de gentmen.” 

Hillyard asked where she had slept ? 

With an open honest air Dolly said “ arter she mended up de 
fiah for Miss Gaff she jes went long down stars to her bed— dem 
po Gaffs — dey had no bed.” 

“ Oh its all right ” said Carson understanding his companions 
suspicion, and looking upon it as quite absurd “ She’s all right.”' 

But Hillyard was not so easily satisfied. He eyed the negress- 
with an uncomfortable feeling. 

“ Were you ever a slave?” he asked abruptly. 

“No sah !” replied Dolly with indignant emphasis “ I never 
was no slave to nobody. I b Tongs to de Charman’ folks— de 
grandes’ folks in de state o’ Souf Callina— dey is my people and 
I is dey people, but I never was no slave to nobody in all my 
born days — no sah !” 

“ So you belonged to the Charlmonte people— what was— or is 
your masters name ?” 

“ Mas Ed Charmon, dats ole master, den dar is Mas Charles 
Ed’rd, dats young master, ole masters son, dey’s bofe on ’em my 
people, I b longs to em, an dey blongs to me.” 


82 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


“Then what’re you doing up here among these Yankees? 
did you run away from the Charlmonte plantation?” 

This was just about the most insulting question that could 
have been put to Dolly, proud as she was of her owners, 
and proud of her connection with them. Her eyes darted 
fire, in a flash the amiability fled, and fury filled her. To use 
her own description when picturing the scene to her young mas- 
ter, as she did afterward — her “ dander riz right up.” Tossing 
back her turbaned head in high disdain, a derisive sneer on her 
black lips, “ Run away eh !” she cried “ run away ? Fust class 
darkey’s dont neber run from der own people ; ef you was well 
’quainted, which you aint is plain to be saw, wid fust quality 
white foks, or fust quality suvans you’d a knowed dat ! I’s none 
o’ yo common niggers, I lets you know, I’s a fust quality white 
lady widout de white skin, dat’s what I is !” 

“ And I suppose ” said Hillyard on purpose to irritate, “I 
suppose you were too lazy to work and the overseer flogged you 
and you ran away; was that it?” 

1 ' 1 ’ ‘ous glances at the speaker — then she 



“ Ders no use,” holding her head high “no sort o’ use o’ 
splainin to de po’ white trash in dis town how I corned up yer — 
po white trash haint de sense to unstan’ hit.” 

With that she walked off her head so high and cast back so dis- 
dainfully, there seemed some danger of her falling backwards. 
The two men watched her go down the steps and heard the loud 
creaking of her shoes with some satisfaction, it dissipated Hill- 
yard’s suspicion that he might have been overheard. 

“ She would not have understood if she had” said Carson. 

“She seems to be flighty and foolish any way” remarked 
Hillyard “ She must have been drunk when we saw her to- 
night.” 

“Very likely” returned Carson “she’s always getting into 
quarrels with her neighbors.” 

The two men heard the heavy creaking shoes go all the way 
to the bottom of the stairway, then they shut the door and did 
not see Dolly’s masterly maneuver carried out. Sitting down on 
the bottom step she again pulled off her shoes and again went up 
stairs, but this time she stole up as softly as a cat, re-entered the 
Gaff room and resumed her old place by the stove near the wall, 
where she could hear what was said by the “ po’ white trash ” 
in the next room. 

“ She must be a runaway ” were the words that made her ears 
prick -forward and her eyes dance. 

“ There’s a chance for you, Carson, to earn a hundred or so — 
write to her master and find out what reward he’ll pay for her 
arrest and return to the plantation.” 

This suggestion instead of angering the negress seemed to over- 
come her with hilarity ; not daring to laugh out loud she shook 
in noiseless chuckles and when Carson replied that he would 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


83 


like to “ make a hundred by catching the good-for-nothing runa- 
way black, Dolly’s lean body bent almost double as she writhed 
in the very ecstacy of mirth. After somewhat relieving her feel- 
ings in this noiseless way she straightened herself up, smoothed 
her features, pricked her ears forward and listened intently ,hear- 
nothing more of interest to herself and judging from certain 
sounds proceeding from the next room that the two men were 
undressing for bed, Dolly’s mind returned to the enjoyment of 
what she had already heard. 

“Lor ! Lor l” she panted, almost breathless with the exercise 
of her soundless mirth. Lor ! Lor ! Wot a worl ! wot a worl!” 

“Dolly’s reflections of a serious nature always seemed to be 
aided by gentle waggings from side to side of her turbaned head. 
Her conscience, often subject to tender spells, now began to 
prick her for too much indulgence in the sin of levity, for which, 
so to speak, she called herself to order, pulled herself together, 
drew over her face its most penitential expression, the ghost of 
a sigh escaped her heart, followed by the ghost of a groan. Her 
pants, sighs, and groans were all soundless, as were the words 
httf lips framed. 

“Bress de Lawd!” she said, in that soundless way. “Bress 
de good Lawd for his many mussies ! He am my trus’ an’ my 
’spote ! He am de way an’ de life o’ dis po’ sinnah in de day 
o’ tribelation, an’ de day o’ trial ! Wen de wicked cease from 
troublin’ an’ de wary am at res’!” 


CHAPTER X. 

CHRISTMAS DAY DAWNED 

Bright, beautiful and cold. The white, unspotted snow lay 
thick over streets and house tops. The storm had spent itself. 
The clouds were gone, the sunlight glistened and dazzled the 
eye. 

About twelve o’clock Charlmonte and Wilmer were briskly 
making their way in the directiou of Dolly’s lodgings. The for- 
mer carried in his hand a large brown-paper parcel. They were 
overtaken by their friend Calyx. 

“How did you get along with the woman last night?” asked 
Wilmer. 

“Very well. I left her in good hands. I think she’ll get over 
her suicidal mania. What are you doing in this out-of-the way 
ally?” 

“0, we’re going to pay a Christmas call on a lady,” said Wil- 
mer, laughing, “one of Charlmonte’ s friends. Come with us, 
she’s a character. What are you doing here?” 

“I also, am going to see a woman. On business, however, 
not pleasure.” 

“You’re such a confounded secretive fellow, Calyx,” said Wil- 


84 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


mer. “We spread our plans to the wind and talk ’em over by 
the hour. You are as mum as an 03^ster,” 

“When I have plans worth telling you shall know them,” re- 
plied the young fellow gravely. “At present they are little more 
than dreams, vague dreams, when they assume substantial shape 
I’ll lay them before you.” 

They reached Dolly’s door. When Mrs. Flood from over the 
street, saw the three well-dressed young men stop, she jumped 
to the conclusion that something very serious was up — probably 
the negress had been murdering some innocent person, or steal- 
ing watches — nothing was too bad for Dolly to do. 

“She’s been a doin’ some devilment, shure and shure,” re- 
marked the lugubrious grocery woman to her young son and 
heir, the freckle-faced, red-haired Mike, aged twelve years and 
some months. 

Calyx also stopped before Dolly’s door. Charlmonte knocked. 
A lean, black face, above whieh towered a tall turban, flattened 
itself against the glass of the front window. The next instant 
the face and turban disappeared, the front door opened, the ne- 
gress stood in it, her face irradiated with joy, as she opened wide 
her arms and flung them around the Southern student. 

“Lor! Lor!” she cried, after squeezing his stalwart form to 
her maternal breast, releasing him, and standing back a step to 
get a good view of the great six-foot fellow. “Lor! Lor! how 
de boy do grow ! — To be sho ! To be sho ! An’ ony day fo’ yis- 
tiddy, as you mout say, he want mo’n so high.” She held one 
of her claw-like hands about two feet from the floor. 

“Do you not intend to invite us in, Aunt Dolly?” inquired the 
object of her affections. 

The negress still stood in the door and the three young men 
on the steps, which little piece of ill-manners Dolly had not per- 
formed without a motive. On opening the door to let in the 
young men, she had caught sight of the the two “po’ white 
Arish” faces watching from over the way. She prolonged and ex- 
agerated he affectionate greeting in full sight of those “Arish” 
eyes, on purpose to let them know how she stood with “gran’ 
fus’ quality folks.” This accomplished, Dolly politely courtesied 
and invited her visitors to come in to the fire. 

Her room was neat and comfortable. 

“So you think I have grown since you last saw me, Aunt 
Dolly ?” said the young Southerner, who had stood six feet in his 
stockings for the last two years and had seen Dolly about two 
months ago. Charlmonte never had made any effort to cure her 
of the delusion that he was continuing to grow. Although she 
seemed, at each interview to realize the fact that he was grown, 
the moment he was out of her sight, her mind seemed to revert 
to the time of his boyhood when, he “ growed his arms out’en 
his jackets, and his legs out’en his breeches” every month or 
so. 

“ Growed!” she repeated glowing upon him, “ Lor Mas Ed’rd 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


85 


you’s got way up ’bove yo’ ole nuss, you is dat, sho ! You’s 
growd to be a big, fine man, you is dat, sho.” 

“Above you J” cried the young stalwart, laughing in all the 
pride of his six feet and broad shoulders, “I should say 60, Dol- 
ly. And you, such a little mite of a body.” 

“I’s little, but Ps some, Mas Ed’rd, I’s ekel to a dozen o’ dese 
big, lubberly po’ white folks clodhoppers. I ken tun out mo’ 
wuk any day I sets my head to it, sho !” 

“But you never set your head to it, eh, Dolly ?” returned the 
young man laughingly. 

“Dey aint no use o’ me wukin,” she returned, “no mannah o’ 
use. Dont I git my quat’ly ’lowance reglar? Whar’s de use a’ 
wukin?” 

“Not a bit in the world,” said her young master. 

Dolly then ^inquired after the folks at home, and said she was - 
most dlSad to visit the island and spend Christmas there, but she 
could not exactly make it. He asked what was the difficulty, 
money run out as usual ? 

“Lors ! Mas Ed’rd,” she replied, a joyous grin lighting up her 
face. “You’s hit de nail on de head dis time, sho ! I’s sech a, 
fool wid my money, Mas Ed’rd, hit jes runs fru my fingers soon’s. 
I lays hands on my quatly ’lowance — hit do.” 

“Confess, now Dolly,” said the!young man in a bantering way, % 
“Confess now, that you stay here because you like this great city 
better than your old Island home. Yon can’t keep away from* 
its theatres, its concerts, its circuses.” 

An expression of injured indignation came into the black’s 
face and eyes. 

“Lor ! Mas Ed’rd, to go for to ’cuse me o’ goin’ to theters an?' 
suckerces ! — And me a ’fessor o’ ’ligion !” 

Hastening to apologize and make his peace for the insulting ; 
intimation, the young man tossed into her lap the big bundle he j 
had brought. It was his Christmas present for his old nurse. 

Dolly cut the cord and opened the bundle. Her face grew lum- 
inous with delight at sight of its contents — a new dress, a scarlet 
shawl, shoes, stockings, head-handkerchiefs of the gayest colors* 

“Lors! Mas Ed’rd!” she cried. “You is de sef same gener- 
somest boy you alius used to be ! For all de worl jes like yo/ 1 
pa !” She spread the things in her lap and admired them. “To 
be sho ! to be sho !” she softly murmured, passing her hand gen*- 
tly over each article, and feasting her eyes on the brilliant col- 
ors. The shawl especially fascinated her gaze ; spreading it 
across her lap she contemplated it with delighted admiration. 

“Mas Ed’rd,” she said, looking at him with sudden serious- 
n ess, “hits oncommon strornary how you hits de nail on de head 
ebery time, hit rayly is — rayly is. Dis is de bery sef-same shawl 
I’s been hankerin arter all dis winter. I seed it hangin’ in de 
sto’ winder — hits rale strornary how you knowed dat was de 
shawl I done picked out to get soon as I save up money Tiuff 
— hit is dat, sho !” 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


Then she spread on her lap the dress pattern and contempla- 
ted it with tender affection. 

“Lor bless desechilluns !” she said feelingly, “Dey’s de giv- 
^enest chilluns in de worl — dem Islan chilluns is. Der’s Miss 
Eoma an’ Miss Conny done been yer an’ gin me de prettiest sort 
o’ presents — Dar dem on de bed, Mas Ed’rd, you ken see for 
yo’sef.” 

“They have been here already ?” cried the young Southerner, 
his heart giving a bound at the sound of a name that was music 
in his ears. 

“Dey’s yer now,” said Dolly, “dey’s upstars wid dem po’ 
Oaff chilluns, dey brung dem chilluns lots o’ things, too.” 

“Upstairs — now — without you ! — why, Dolly, is it a fit place 
for young ladies?” said the young man, in vague alarm. 

Dolly related the story of the Gaff family, how “dat ar ou- 
dacious Gaff man got drunk an’ beat his wife, an’ broke heV bones, 
an’ how de little Gaff chilluns went out to beg, der mammy be- 
in laid up in bed, an’ de daddy bein’ took to jail, an’ how she 
foun’ dem Gaff chilluns schrooched up in de do ’way, as she 
was cornin’ home from pra’r meetin’, an’ how she took an’ car- 
ried them to Miss Roma an’ Miss Conny, because she knowed 
•dey’d give ’em somefin to keep ’em from starvin plum to def, 
an’ how dey was jes about to set down to de grandes’ suppei, all 
dem school gals standin’ roun’ de big tukey an’ cakes, an’ all 
sorts o’ goodies, sent from de Islan’, looking jes zackly like an- 
gels widout no wings, when dey jes up an’ sez dey would ruther 
gin de supper to de chilluns’ po’ ma dan to eat it dem sevs, an’ 
so Miss Roma she corned herself, an’ dat Arish white man, he 
fotch de box, an’ den Miss Roma an’ Miss Conny dey corned agin 
dis blessed mornin’, an’ dar dey now was up stars wid dem 
Gaff chilluns a seen’ of ’em put on der new shoes an’ stock- 
ins . ’ ’ 

The young Southerner listened with breathless interest to this 
story, which was but little better than jargon to the ear of Calyx, 
totally unaccustomed to negro dialect. Charlmonte asked when 
the young ladies would be down. Dolly volunteering to go and 
see, ran up stairs and pretty soon returned with the three little 
Gaff children, proud of the loud creaking of their new shoes. 

“Dese is dey’,” said Dolly, shoving the children to the front, 
“dese is dem chilluns what would a freeze to def ’ceptin’ I foun’ 
’em scrooched up in de do ’way as I come home from pra’r meet- 
in’ — dese is dem sef-same chilluns.” 

“But where are the young ladies?” asked the Southerner, af- 
ter duly admiring the children and their shoes, and putting a 
piece of silver in each little hand. 

“Dey’s cornin’,” said Dolly, and at the same moment the two 
girls came down the narrow stairway and entered Dolly’s room ; 
the three young men arose to receive them. 

Miss Ashford blushed beautifully as she felt the eyes of the 
young Southerner upon her. 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


87 


“Why, Dolly,” said Miss Roma gaily, “if you had told us you 
Lad so much grand company we might have put on our best 
dress.” 

“Lors, honey !’’ replied the negress, clearing the things from 
a cedar chest, which she invited the girls to sit upon, her supply 
of chairs being limited to three, “dese boys ’sprise me more’n 
dey do you a cornin’ yer wid so many presens forpo’ ole Dolly — 
Set down, honey, set down on de ches’ — Christmas dont come 
but onst a year.” 

“Dolly,” said the young Southerner, after much more idle 
chat of the sort youth indulges in, “these gentlemen are friends 
of mine, and would like to hear you tell how it happened that 
your master gave you your freedom to come and go like the 
wind, whithersoever it suits your fancy. 

Dolly modestly pretended that the the story was “scacely wuf 
tellin’,” but after some little persuasion she complied. 

The young man well knew that to tell the story was the su- 
preme delight of her life. 

Dolly begun, 

“You see young Massers ” addressing herself directly to Wil- 
mer and Calyx, as being the Northern gentlemen for whose ben- 
efit the story was told. “ Mas Ed’rd. dar whar you sees growed 
up so tall was den nuffin but a little shaver not mo’n so high ” 
holding her claw like hand a foot or so above the floor “ an I was 
a young slip uv a gal den, an dat morninT was in de flower garden 
a pullin’ de weeds outen de tube roses, rechin down dis way (il- 
lustrating the action of pulling up weeds) when I hears de chil- 
luns, whar was in de back yard plavin long dar ’bout de well, I 
heers ’em gin sech awful screeches dat I riz right Up an’ says to 
myse’f says I “ What dat fur?” Den I hern Aunt Sally’s Sam, 
which was a right smart sized boy Sam was, I hern Sam holler 
out jes as loud as he could as “Mas Ed’rd’s done fall in de^well ! 
Mas Ed’rd’s dona fall in de well !” which was monsus deep and 
monsus dangus, so I jes drap dem weeds outen my hand an farly 
flied for dat well ; and dar all around de well was dem black chil- 
luns screechin’an’ screamin’ der seves into fits, an nary white nor 
black man nigh nuff fer to go down dat well an fetch out little 
Mas Ed’rd. So I jes kotch hole o’ de rope an slid down like a 
house a fire, den when I got mose to de bottom I hilt on wid one 
hand and rech down wid de oder a feelin’ for little Mas Ed’rd 
(graphically illustrating as she talked) an’ praise de Lord ! I 
kotch de chile by de har o’ his head, which was long wid de pret- 
tiest curls you e*ber see in all 'yo born days ! den I screech for 
’em to pull me up, an I jes hilt dat chile tight wid one arm an 
hilt de rope wid de oder hand, and by dat time Big Bill, de car- 
riage driver, he was dar, ready for ter draw us up, and presenly 
up we corned bofe on us an’ when we got to de top dar was ole 
Mas Ed’rd an free or four black men ready to kotch hole o’ me, 
an kotch hole o’ little Mas Ed’rd and haul us bofe safe outen dat 
danjus well on to dry lan’, same as Jonah wat de bible tell about, 


88 


BLACK A ND WHITE. 


an dar was little Mas Ed’rd widout no bone broke, but a right 
smart cut in de head whar he hit hisse’f gin de stone cubbin o r 
de well, an dar was Miss Clare, his ma, jes as white as ary ghose,. 
and dar was Mas Ed’rd, his pa, skeered mose to deaf, an’ dar 
was dem black chilluns a settin’ on de grass under de plum tree 
jes a howlin an’ a howlin becaze dey say little Mas Ed^rd’s done 
drownded in de well, an’ when Mas Ed’rd and Miss Clare see de 
boy a comin to his senses openin his eyes and talkin’ same as 
ever, Miss Clare, she kotch me in her arms an’ gin me sech a 
hug, an’ Mas Ed’rd he say “ Dolly you’s a black dimon’ you is, 
an’ from dis day, bofe so long as ever so be de good Lord he lets 
you live, you’s a free ’ooman, to do jes what you please to do, 
an’ you’s to have all de money you wants long as you lives from 
dis day forf” an dat’s jes hit young massers, Ole Mas Ed’rd he 
keeps his word ’bout de money and I jes goes ’bout whar I 
pleases to, an draws my quatly ’lowance — dat’s hit.” 

The two young men praised her courage and Wilmer asked 
how it happened that she had strayed so far from her island 
home ? 

Dolly replied that it “ war a accident ontily ” one summer 
she had “ heerd that chambermaids were wanted at de ole Vir- 
ginny Suffer” Springs, so she went to that place, and among the 
visitors was Mrs. Blaine and her children who took a fancy to 
their nimble black chambermaid and persuaded her to accompany 
them to their home in the city of New York. She remained with 
them a year — that got her in the way of traveling, she had been 
home several times since then, but had acquired the taste for 
travel and excitement. 

The Blaine family ! this possessed interest for at least one of 
her auditors — Calyx had come for the very purpose of finding a 
descendent of that family — could it be that this negress knew the 
parentage of the child he was in search of? the little blond, bold 
faced child who watched with curious eyes all that was going 
on ? 

Soon after this Dolly’s visitors rose to leave; she followed them 
to the door and detained them there — all five, partly to gain a 
little desired information but mostly that her natural enemy the 
“ Arish ’ooman,” should have another full view of her grand vis- 
itors. 

“Mas Ed’rd ” she called out as they were starting off “ stop 
jes one minute ef you please, I wants to ax a question. 

“ Out with it !” said the young man stopping to hear. 

“Mas Ed’rd” 'a look of profound perplexity came over her 
black face “ what kinder varmints is dockymens?” 

“ What !” cried the Southerner. 

“ Dockymens ?” repeated Dolly the perplexity deepening in 
her face “ I wants ter know what is dem varmints dockymens, de 
wust sort.” 

“ Dockymens ! you’ve stumped me Dolly — I give it up — I can- 
not enlighten you.” 


BLA CK AND WHITE. 


89 


“ Lors ! Mas Ed’rd an you sech a scollard !” cried Dolly scep- 
tical as to his ignorance “ 1 says to myself says I, ef dars anybody 
as knows dem dockymens its Mas Ed’rd.” 

The young man said he was sorry he could not come up to her 
expectations, but had never heard of “ dockymens ” before. 

“ Lors ! Mas Ed’rd” returned the negress, chagrin and disap- 
pointment in her face “ ef anybody had a tole me as you did’n 
know dem dockymens I’d a tole ’em dey was plum fools, I would 
datsho!” 

Dolly was evidently so earnest the young man began to think — 
so did the others. 

“ Perhaps she does not pronounce the word rightly” said 
Miss Roma, “dockymens ! where did you hear of it, Dolly ?” 

Dolly explained that she had heard two men say “ ef dey could 
get hold of a sutten dockymen it’d be wuf a pile o’ moneyto ’em 
an she was jes dat curus to know what a dockymen was.” 

“ Was it document they said Dolly?” asked the young lady. 

“ To be sho, honey, aint I been tellin of you all dis time as its 
dockymens? to be sho honey, dockymens.” 

“ Document, well now I understand you” said Charlmonte 
taking from his pocket a folded paper, “ this is a document, 
Dolly, a paper on which something is written — a deeclaration of 
some one’s will or wish.” 

Dolly took the paper in her hand turned it over and over, a 
look of wonder and curiosity in her face. 

“ To be sho !” she muttered to herself as she unfolded the pa- 
per handling it delicately as if it were a live creature and might 
bite her, “ To-be-sho ! an dis is a dockymen ! well ! well ! well ! 
I made sho it war some sort o’ varmint or oder Mas Ed’rd.” 

“ No ! no !” replied the young man “a document is not a var- 
mint, Dolly it is a paper on which something is written. For 
instance, when a man is going to die and wishes to say what 
shall be done with his property after his death, he writes his 
wushes down on a piece of paper like that and then we call it a 
document, and that document becomes a valuable paper, worth 
thousands of dollars.” 

The negress looked at the paper with curious intentness “ To 
be sho ! to be sho !” she muttered reflectively. “ I unstans now 
Mas Ed’rd — I unstans. Thanky sir, Thanky sir!” 

She dropped a curtesy, gave the paper back and the young 
people walked away, four in one direction, one in another. 

Dolly stood in the door as long as she could see, then cried out 
“Christmas gif’ to you all! Christmas gif’! Christmas gif ’!” 
which public demonstration was got up to show to the enemy 
across the street on what good terms she was with her grand vis- 
itors. 

Calyx bade the others good morning and walked off in another 
direction, but returned before Dolly had left the door. He said 
he wanted to see Mrs. Gaff. After a short interview with that 
lady who was yet confined to her bed, but comfortably supplied 


90 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


with food and fuel, thanks to the young ladies — Calyx left, .ac- 
companied by the elder clild, the little blond girl with the bold 
blue eyes. The child trotted on by the student’s side perfectly 
content to go, after being promised a new dress and a pair of red 
stockings which was the price she demanded for compliance. 


CHAPTER XI. 

YOUTH AND BEAUTY.— LOVE AND LOGIC. 

The four young people turned their steps in the direction of 
the Finisher Institute. 

Wilmer and Miss Charlmonte started off at a swift pace, the 
others followed more slowly. 

“O, those beautiful people !” said Roma, looking back at the 
two young lovers. “How they feed each other’s craving for com- 
pliments, for sweet flattery ! If I were beautiful I think I would 
be satisfied to know the fact myself — why should I wish to be 
told of it by others ?” 

“You speak as if you did not think yourself beautiful,” said 
Wilmer. 

“And you speak as though you thought every girl imagined 
herself a beauty.” 

“By no means. I imagine, though everyone is pretty well 
pleased with the person God has given him or her.” 

“One may be tolerably well satisfied and yet see how much 
more lovely other people are,” replied the girl. 

“Yes ; I suppose so. I do not distress myself over the body 
I possess, yet I very well know it is nothing to be proud of. 
Look at Charlmonte, how handsome he is.” 

“And look at Conny, how beautiful she is.” 

“Rarely beautiful — yet, there are faces I might like better — 
not half so handsome” — glancing at the dark, intellectual face 
of the young girl by his side. 

Wilmer was one of the few men who admired intellect in 'wo- 
men more than mere beauty. “The one fades so early,” he said, 
“the other lasts with life, and is never tiresome.” 

“Beauty,” said the girl, “is not so essential to your sex as to 
mine — that is one advantage you men have over us.” 

“But I see no good reason why beauty should be more essen- 
tial to women than to men,” said Wilmer. “I dare say your 
sex admire masculine beauty as we do feminine.” 

“The reason is plain,” replied the girl. “For instance, what 
is given a girl to do after she quits school, except to make her- 
self as pretty as possible? Whereas a boy is not told to set 
about the study of adorning himself, he is given other work to 
do, other ambitions to strive for.” 

“This difference you speak oi is wholly artificial — is the re- 
sult of the artificial rules of society and relations of the two sex- 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


91 


es. There is no natural reason why women should study the 
art of personal adornment any more than men.” 

“Do you really think that?” 

U I know it. The male savage adorns his person as much as^ 
the female savage. Were women educated with the idea of be- 
ing self-supporting, as men are, they would cease to give the- 
best years of their existence to the art of self-adornment. Wo- 
men should have aims and ambitions as men have.” 

“Truly ?” asked the young girl, turning on him a quick glance 
of inquiry. . 

“Yes, truly. Why not? Many women never marry ; even if 
they do choose to marry, aims and ambitions will be no disad- 
vantage, on the contrary, a great benefit.” 

“1 am glad to hear that,” said Roma, with a bright, joyous - - 
smile, “for I am one of the ones destined never to marry, and I 
shall forthwith provide myself with aims and ambitions.” 

“Why are you destined never to marry, more than other 
young ladies ?” 

“There are good reasons. I made up my mind six years 
ago.” 

“That was rather young to settle so momentous a question.” 

“Yes; but a powerful reason brought it about — and every" 
day since the determination has been strengthened.” 

“You really excite my curiosity. I do not wish to be impu- 
dent, but I would be extremely pleased to know the story of 
that determination, and the nature of that pressure that brought 
it about.” 

The amused look in Wilmer’s eyes told the girl that he was 
making a jest of the matter — she was perlectly serious. 

“I see,” she said, “that you are laughing at me, but it is no 
laughing thing with me — it caused me a good cry at the time it 
happened, but I have got over all that, and rather enjoy the 
idea of single freedom all my life.” 

“I am more and more curious,” said the young man, still 
with that amused look. 

“I have never yet told anyone of the cause of my determina- 
tion, but all my friends know that I have made up my mind. 
Of course I’ll not tell you who only make fun of it.” 

“If you are in earnest I will be very serious — I will look at 
the question like a philosopher. Have you never heard your 
cousin Charlmonte on my profoundly philosophical bent ? No! 
Well, I can tell you he has immense respect for my wisdom on 
all subjects, and if you will confide in me and consult me as to 
your aims and ambitions, the benefit will he incalculable.” 

“Your modesty is as remarkable as your philosophical wis- 
dom,” said Roma. 

“But first of all,” urged the young man, “I entreat of you to 
let me know what could have caused a girl of eleven or twelve — 
you said you came to that dgterminition six years ago, and that 
would put the occurence in your eleventh year — ” 


m 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


“I was twelve at the time.” 

“ — The determination never to marry, that is a point in hu- 
man nature I wish to understand.” 

“0, that was very simple. It happened thus — but it is a se- 
cret I have never told my own people, lest it might make them 
a little sorry for me, which I do not want — I once heard my 
grandfather, who loves me more than any person in the world — 
I am his only grandchild — and Uncle Richard, who is Conny’s 
■father, talking about some woman’s unhappy marriage; it seems 
the lady was wealthy, and was married for her money, and the 
husband turned out to be mean and cruel. Grandfather talked 
bitterly about it, and said he wished women did not think it 
necessary to marry, and that he would die content if he knew I 
would never want to marry — that I was no beauty, and fortune 
hunters would swarm around me, and ten chances to one I would 
marry some dog of a man who only wanted my money. Grand- 
father did not know I overheard this, or he never would have 
said that I had no beauly, for he loved me too much to say any- 
thing to hurt my feelings. That was the first time I had ever 
thought whether I was pretty or not. I went to the glass and 
-studied my face and compared it with Conny’s, Conny always 
Vas a perfect beauty. Then I went to Grandpapa and made him 
happy by telling him I had considered the subject of marriage, 
and concluded that I was too ugly for any man to seek me for 
love and I would die before I would marry a man that did not 
love me, therefore I wanted him to treat me just as if I were a 
boy, and bring me up to take care of myself and my property, 
and not look out for a husband to manage it and me. Grandpa 
highly applauded -this, and ever since has given me the widest 
freedom. Veils and bonnets and fine dresses he cast aside — 
that is why I am so dark, so sunburnt, like a boy. We live on 
an island. I had fine horses to gallop over the island, and 
boats to row on the sea — oh ! it pays to be ugly and not care for 
the complexion. There’s cousin Conny, if she stirs out without 
gloves and veils, she is scolded, lest that lovely skin of hers 
should be tanned. Now, what I want is a profession — ” 

“A profession?” 

“Yes ; so I can do something in the world, just as if I were a 
man.” 

“I will think it over,” said Wilmer, “and when I am better 
acquainted with the bent of your mind, we will consult as to the 
career you should start on. This is your door.” 

A carriage stood in front of it, and a great, paunchy, grum 
coachman, buttoned up to his eyes in a heavy great-coat and fur 
collar, looked down on the pedestrians, as princes look down on 
paupers. 

The reader will recognize Mr. Puffington, the driver of the 
Singleton carriage. Roma and Wilmer waited on the steps un- 
til Charlmonte and Miss Ashford came up. 

“It is Miss Mopson’s Aunt’s carriage” said the lovely Conny 


> 


* 

BLACK AND WHITE . 93 

as soon as she saw the proud Mr. Puffington. “We will now 
have a chance to see that grand lady — she is in the parlor, come 
in gentlemen and warm.” 

They all four went in, Miss Melissa Mopson, the tearful young 
lady, whose young mind was filled with sweetly sentimental 
dreams, was there with her aunt Mrs. Singleton and Mrs. Sin- 
gleton’s two handsome sons, Master Jack, the young philoso- 
pher, and Master Frederick Singleton. The mother of these two 
handsome boys was a very handsome woman, dressed wfth ex- 
, treme elegance. She strongly resembled her brother Arthur 
Singleton; marriage had not changed her name, her husband was 
her cousin as well — in fact all the Singleton family had the same 
cast of features and form, dark slender faces, blue eyes, narrow 
foreheads, eyebrows obliquely running to the nose. Miss Mop- 
son, although a niece of the Singletons had no resemblance to 
them, she was all Mopson as her aunt often remarked. Miss 
Mopson was not tall and slender i on the contrary she was short 
and full-formed, with a round face, a pug nose, big, blue, shal-, 
low-looking eyes, that filled with tears on the slightest provoca- 
tion. Miss Mopson’s parents were dead, she was taken care of 
by her aunt and possessed a little money— not much, but enough 
to support her respectably. Mrs. Singleton had never been fond 
of this niece — they did not suit — she was “all Mopson” and Miss 
Mopson always felt as if she were persecuted and not appreci- 
ated by her Singleton kin. Miss Mopson thought it necessary 
to introduce her aunt to her school mates and the two island 
girls returned the compliment by introducing the two gentlemen 
to Miss Mopson and her aunt. Then the aunt rose, made a 
haughty bow and rustled out, Melissa followed with a sadly sub- 
dued face, the two boys lingered to gaze at the beautiful Con- 
stance Ashford. When that young lady removed her hood, her 
golden tresses fell in waves down her purple-velvet-clad shoul- 
ders, her cheeks were flushed, her violet eyes bright and dewy, 
never was there a lovelier picture. No wonder the two boys 
lingered to look. 

Miss Mopson followed her aunt into the hall, they stopped a 
moment by the stove which gave out a glowing heat. 

“I’m glad you did’nt take any notice of ’em aunt” said Miss 
Mopson with a melancholy pout, “they’re stuck up enough 
now.” 

“But isn’t she a beauty” cried Master Jack with boyish gusto 
“She’s one of the tip-toppest tip-toppers Fred, and looks as if 
she never could slide down.” 

“How many times have I requested you Jackson, to cease your 
slang?” asked his mother severely. 

“They’re the most stuck-up girls in school,” remarked Miss 
Mopson gloomily looking down on the stove. 

“The girls are well enough Melissa” said her aunt “I took no 
notice because the circle of my acquaintance is already suffi- 
ciently large — there was no need for an introduction.” 


i 


94 BLACK AND WHITE. 

“I thought you’d think it impolite if I didn’t — Mrs. Finisher 
is always making us introduce everybody. They’re ever so rich 
and that’s what makes ’em so stuck up.” 

“ Who is ever so rich?” 

“Those island girls, they dash money about as if it was dirt r 
waste it on beggars and niggers just to show off, nobody like& 
’em. Teresa Wedrington hates ’em.” 

“How do you know they are rich ?” asked the aunt considera- 
bly more interested in the subject. 

Miss Mopson with the gloomiest little face related how Rosa 
Amelia Bickford, who came from Charleston, South Carolina,. ' 
knew all about the island girls, and Rosa Amelia said they owned 
the whole island and made hundreds and hundreds Ox bales of 
cotton and had hundreds and hundreds of niggers — at least their 
fathers had, and one of them was an only child. 

“Is it the beauty that is the richest ?” asked Master Jack. 

“No it’s the ugly one — though I don’t see any great beauty in 
the other either” replied Miss Mopson still gloomily contem- 
plating the top of the stove. 

“Then you dont know what beauty is,” said Master Jack.” 

“How could Mopsy know about beauty, she’s got none her- 
self,” said Master Jack pertly. 

“Hold your tongue sir, if you can’t be more polite” said his- 
his mother sharply “I wish Melissa would box your ears.” 

But that young lady only let fall a silent tear and gazed on the 
stove with a face of darker gloom. 

“It isn’t wise Melissa” said her aunt “it really is not wise for 
a girl in your situation to take up dislikes in that way — you 
should always make friends with rich girls, rich friends may be 
of use to jmu.” 

“Friends ?” repeated the melancholy Miss Mopson in a sepul- 
chral tone “I have no friends.” 

“Do pray Melissa” returned her aunt impatiently “don’t at- 
tempt tragedy, tragedy does not suit your style. A little round 
face, a pug nose, and a duck of a figure, have no right to run into 
tragedy, why you will do it is amazing.” 

“Lively chambermaid parts would suit you Mopsy,” said Mas- 
ter Jack grinning. 

“Stop your impertinence Jackson,” said his mother “and re- 
member, Melissa, my advice, make friends with these island 
girls ; it would be a fine thing for you if they invited you home 
with them some time and you caught a rich planter,” 

“Do catch him Mopsy, and I’ll spend my winters with you 
and make love to the beauty,” said Master Jack not in the least 
heeding his mother’s reprimand. 

Miss Mopson languidly climbed up the stairs after her rela- 
tions had gone, tears in her eyes, and these gibes in her memory, 
climbed up to go on with the sentimental story of the “Children 
of the Abby” which she had hidden under her pillow for safe, 
keeping. 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


95 


• ‘Mother,’ ’ said Master Fred after they were in the carriage 
driving off “what ails Mopsy ? what makes her cry so easy ? I 
wish she was jolly and pretty like that island girl. 5 ’ 

‘‘Melissa’s all Mopson, ’’returned his mother* ‘Phil Mopson her 
father, always went about dismal as an owl, feeling as if every- 
body was treating him badly. Jackson bid Puffington to drive 
to your uncle Arthur’s.” 

“Uncle won’t see you mother, he’s in bed all cut up, he told 
me to tell you he couldn’t see anyone to-day, that crazy creature 
beat him badly.” 

“Do as I bid,” commanded the mother imperatively, the two 
straight lines deepening between her dark brows, always a sign of 
unpleasant thought as well as stern resolve. 

Notwithstanding the prohibition she gained access to her 
brother’s room. She found him in bed, his head swathed in a 
wet towel. 

“How do you account for the woman’s conduct Arthur?” 
asked his sister, “why should a stranger wish to hurt you? she 
did not come to steal, did she ?” 

“How should I know ? you can’t expect me toundorstand the 
motives of a drunken woman, can you?” 

“And you would not have her arrested? Why she may come at 
you again.” 

“Of course she may, in fact I look for her every minute,” re- 
plied Mr. Arthur maliciously hoping to frighten his sister 
away. 

“Then why not set the police on her track ?” 

“Do you suppose I’d like to get my name in the papers mixed 
up with a drunken drab’s ?” 

He spoke so irritably his sister let the subject drop, but took 
up one even more irritating, She said she had been anxious to 
see him about that note, she needed the money badly — Jackson’s 
expenses at school were heavy, if he could not pay the whole, 
half would be a help ; he shook his head gloomily and finally 
confessed that he was dead broke, that he could not raise a 
thousand dollars to save his life. 

“What can you have done with your property?” she asked, 
white and pale. “Is $5000 so large a sum you cannot raise it? 
Does not your Broadway property bring good rents ?” 

“Good or bad it is nothing to me” said her brother gloom- 
ily. 

“Nothing to you ?” gasped the sister. 

“Nothing. It is lost to me— mortgaged.” 

“And your house on Water street?” 

“Eaten up with mortgages.” 

“What went with the money ?” 

There was no reply. 

“Your Uncle Ned lost every dime he got from his father by 
cards — he was hurried by his relations; are you leading the same 
life ?” she asked with a stern white face. 


96 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


“He lived while he did live — what’s the use of having a cake 
if you can’t eat it ?” 

“Only a fool will gorge every crumb of his cake one day to 
starve the next” she replied bitterly. 

Mrs. Singleton was ten years older than her brother and had 
been more of a mother to him than a sister. She asked him 
what his plans were ? how did he expect to maintain himself. 
He said if he could only raise money to begin on he knew he 
could retrieve his losses, he had been cleaned out by the sharp- 
ers of Baden-Baden, and had lately been studying the science of 
cards and felt sure that he could not only win back what he had 
lost but increase his fortunes, all he wanted was a few thousands 
cash to operate on. His sister listened to this aghast. It seemed 
like lunacy to her. As he talked of winning, of his understand- 
ing the science of cards, his whole aspect changed, his eyes lighted 
up, his cheeks flushed, hope illuminated his countenance. 

“Win back your money ? Good heavens ! Arthur, surely you 
do not expect to get your living by gambling ? Are you mad 
enough to fancy you can grow rich by what has made you 
poor ?” 

“That’s the logic of a woman. ’’said he contemptuously, “if I 
lost, did not some other man win ? Why may not I win just as 
another man ? I’ve studied the cards — I’ve thought over the 
games — I now understand the chances — I see through the whole 
thing-I feel certain I will succeed if only I had money to start on.” 

“It may be a gentlemanly thing to play cards as a pastime, 
but do you think, Arthur, it is a gentlemanly business to gam- 
ble for a living?” 

“How else am I to get it?” he indignantly asked “do you ex- 
pect me to go out and shovel coal for a living? I can’t work 
and I won’t work — now how am I to live will you please tell 
me ? Do you want me to kill myself out of the way ?” 

This sort of absurd talk his sister thought it useless to notice. 
She sat silent for some moments, the two lines deepening and 
darkening between her oblique brows. When she spoke it was 
very gently. She said there was a way by which he might re- 
trieve his fortunes — a gentlemanly way that would not bring dis- 
honor on his name. He said he’d like to hear of it, but she 
might just as well understand he wasn’t going intu any disagree- 
able plebeian work — he wasn’t one of the sort to do drudging 
work, and he never intended to try. 

“You are past thirty Arthur, but you are much handsomer 
than most men at twenty, some men utilize their beauty.” 

Mr. Arthur laughed, “Oh” he said “you want me to hunt a 
rich wife! Where will I find the article? Trot her out ! If 
she’s not too hard looking I’ll take her. But you know Cathy, 
I am no marrying man, no matter who or what she is, it will be 
a tremendous sacrifice on my part.” i 

“Every rose has its thorns,” sagely remarked his sister glad 
to see the cheerful way he met the idea. 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


97 


“Well ! have you any prize in view?” 

“What will you say to a rich widow ?” 

“You know I detest widows — but a fellow in my fix I suppose 
can’t be too choice.” 

“I should think not ; a widow with a pile of cash, and no en- 
cumbrances, no father to tie up her property, will be worth your 
attention Arthur.” 

“The cash pile certainly will be — Who is she Cathy?” 

“Do you remember old Tubinger, the rich old bachelor who 
made his money by building and investing his gains in city 
property — now very valuable ?” 

“You don’t want me to marry old Tubinger, do you?” 

“Old Tubinger married a woman a few years ago, a woman 
from Canaan-Four-Corners, a little town in Connecticut, just 
across the line. Her husband dropped down with apoplexy a 
year after his marriage, and left every dollar he had to his wife. 
She and I were at the same sea-side place last Summer. I 
thought about you, and we struck up a great friendship. I show- 
ed her your picture, and she thinks you are very handsome.” 

“I wish I had seen her picture, and thought her very hand- 
some.” 

“She is considered a fine-looking woman.” 

“I detest }mur fine-looking women, they are always stout and 
red-faced. 1 don't think I would be apt to fancy the sort of a 
woman old Tubinger would select.” 

“How would you like a young girl, dark, slender, lady-like, 
but no beauty ?” she asked, as the vision of Melissa’s school- 
mate rose before her memory.” 

“Much money ?” 

“An heiress, the only grandchild of a wealthy Southern 
planter.” 

“Give me the girl — always a girl before a stout, red-faced wo- 
man.” 

“But the girl waits for a dead man’s shoes; the widow al- 
ready has the shoes.” » 

It was finally agreed thvt the fastidious Mr. Arthur was, if 
possible, to see and inspect these two eligible ladies, and make 
his choice between them. His sister was to contrive to have 
them at her house to tea some evening. 

“What you want, Arthur,” she said, rising to leave, “what 
every gentleman of your position and disposition wants, is a 
settled income ; it would not at all suit you to live by the hazard 
of cards. You may enjoy the excitement of play, Arthur but to 
depend on it for support will not do— positively it will not.” 


CHAPTER XII. 

THEORIES AND EXPERIMENTS. 

As we have said, Calyx had been reading works on mesmer 


98 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


ism, and had become deeply interested in the subject. He held 
theories as to the possibility of utilizing the discovery; a little 
practice had convinced him that he himself possessed the power 
to mesmerise in an extraordinary degree. There was another 
subject in which the student’s mind was deeply interested, and 
this was the search for the cause and cure of that wide-spread 
disease which afflicts the human family, alcoholism, so 
wide-spread, so universal, indeed, that many have come to be- 
lieve it the result of a natural taste. 

Calyx’s mind at once jumped at the conclusion that it was not 
possible that a natural instinct, or taste, would be implanted in 
any creature which certainly leads it to ruin and death. All nat- 
ural tastes tend to the preservation of the creature. Starting 
thus, with the proposition that the craving for stimulus is not 
natural, it follows that it is caused by some violation of natural 
laws, begun by our ignorant projenitors, in the dark ages when 
the struggle for sustenance was the all-engrossing work of their 
lives, he bent his mind to search for the cause and cure of this 
unnatural craving which leads to drink and misery, disease and 
death. His own family had suffered so severely from this dis- 
ease, his own childhood had been made wretched, his sister’s 
life ruined, his mother broken hearted; all this made it the one 
theme forever present in his mind. Even in his sleep the prob- 
lem was at work, pushing itself through his brain, until at last 
his soul cried ont “Eureka!” and he really believed that he had 
found the root of the evil, and the cure. 

Calyx never had mentioned these topics to his fellow students, 
Wilmer and Charlmonte. He felt that they would not sympa- 
thize with his ideas; it was the dream and. the hope of his life, 
one day to be able to test his theories as to the cause of drunk- 
enness, and of eliminating from the system of the drunkard, 
the disease which causes the craving for drink. The only con- 
fident he made of his plans and hopes was his sister, the little, 
pale, patient seamstress, who had acted as a mother to him since 
his own mother had died of a broken heart and broken hopes. 
Keziah, his sister, was twelve years his senior, a patient listen- 
er, an indefatigable worker, but she had no enthusiasm, In her se- 
cret soul she thought her brother’s theories were boyish talk, 
and nothing more. So it was a rather disagreeable surprise to 
her Tyhen he knocked on her door, on the night he walked away 
with the half-crazed woman and took that woman in the house. 
Poor Keziah was aghast at the sight. The lodgings they occu- 
pied were small and humble, only three small rooms, or rather 
closets, one for the sister, one for the brother, and one to cook 
and eat in. Where could she put this great, strong, reckless 
creature — this half-crazed woman? What if she should become 
frenzied, and rave, and tear the household things to fragments? 
As Keziah gazed upon her she thought it quite likely something 
of the sort would occur, but her brother relieved her of this anx- 
iety by his mesmeric power over the woman. After some effort 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


99 


he soothed her nervous excitement, and put her in a profound 
sleep. 

“She’ll do, Keziah,” said the student, contemplating his pa- 
tient as she sat in stone-like sleep. “I have long wanted a sub- 
ject; if I can cure her of drink, she’ll do. We must keep her to- 
night. I shall see her father early in the morning, and get from 
him money to assist in taking care of her until she is restored to 
her natural health.” 

On seeing the picture in the locket. Calyx had recognized the 
daughter of a wealthy wine merchant, in whose family his sister 
had once worked as a seamstress ; the girl had run away from 
home to hide her shame. Her father had forbidden her name 
mentioned, and while Keziah was in the house, the girl’s moth- 
er, on learning that her daughter had become a mother, begged 
to be allowed to see her and give her some sympathy and assist- 
ance. The father sternly forbade, and the girl disappeared from 
the city, and had not been heard from since. Keziah had in her 
possession a miniature of the girl, the duplicate of the portrait 
in the locket. It was these pictures which enabled Calyx to 
recognize the woman whose appearance was so changed, even 
those who knew her personally would hardly have recognized 
her as the once fair, handsome, sunny-faced creature she had 
been at sixteen. 

Calyx procured the money from the wine merchant, although 
he frankly told the student he wished he had let her die in the 
street — “Such women are not worth saving,” he said. Elated 
at his success so far. Calyx set to work in dead earnest ; he had 
the money, he had the subject. 

The wine merchant agreed to give him an allowance of fifty dol- 
lars per month as long as he kept the woman in his house, and 
brutally expressed the hope that she might never get out until 
she was carried feet foremost to the grave. 

It was no easy work, but Calyx’s whole soul delighted in it. 
So strong was his faith in final success, so strong bis faith in the 
reformation of public opinion, which the propogation and prac- 
tice of his theories would work in the world, so strong his faith 
in the great good that would result to humanity, that he delight- 
ed in the work from which many others would have shrunk as 
not only disagreeable, but horrible. His first care was to en- 
large his lodging place by the acquisition of three other rooms, 
these three were devoted to the use of the patient; one served as 
a bed room; one was fitted up as a bath room, a large tub, in 
which his patient could lie down at full length, hot and cold wa- 
ter in abundance was supplied. Two stout working women were 
hired as attendants, a supply of fruits and vegetables was laid 
in. These were the munitions by which he meant to wage war 
on the spirit of alcohol which had gained possession of his pa- 
tient. Although he had the woman under lock and key, al- 
though he knew in all the wide world there was not one to in- 
terfere, or seek to rescue her from him, he knew that the grea^ 


100 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


enemy, Alcohol, would fight for her possession ; he knew that 
although bolts and bars held her in, still, Alcohol ruled her; her 
body was a citadel in which the dreadful spirit of Drink was in- 
trenched, every part and atom of that body, every nerve and 
tissue and muscle was permeated, and pervaded, and ruled by 
the Spirit of Alcohol. 

In that grandest and gloomiest of modern poems, Manfred, 
the poet calls up the spirit of many material things, the earth, 
the air, the mountain, the star which ruled the unhappy Man- 
fred’s destiny- each and all, and more than these, possessed an 
active, sentient spirit, strong, whether for good or for evil. There 
was a spirit of the wind, and a spirit of the earthquake, of the 
hurricane and the volcano. Notwithstanding this liberal num- 
ber of spirits, the poet’s soul cried out for others : 

“Oh! that I were 

The viewless spirit of a lovely sound !” 

All this may be only the poet’s fancy, but who can say that 
material things are not filled and governed by spirit force ? Who 
does not know that in alcohol, no matter what name it bears, 
what color or shape it assumes, there exists a subtle, invisible, 
insidious, treacherous, and most malignant spirit, which, once 
gaining entrance into the human stomach, makes of it a citadel,, 
entrenches itself therein, sends forth along every nerve and ar- 
tery its fiery cohorts to permeate and possess the whole system 
and never rests in its evil work until every atom of the body is 
under its sway and then the wretched victim finds that he is pos- 
sessed by an inappeasable demon which rules him with despotic 
power, which, sometimes swiftly, sometimes slowly, but always 
surely, drives him on to disease, degradation and death. It w r as 
to exorcise this dreadful spirit that the young student bent his 
mind, he began the work with all the enthusiasm of a theorist 
and the bold confidence of youth. 

“I shall send my cohorts through every nerve and tissue of 
her body,” he said, “to drive out the demon’s; the molecules 
of her blood, brain, muscles, nerves and glands shall be puri- 
fied.” 

“How will you do it?” asked the little mild Keziah; in her 
secret heart she had no particle of faith in her brothers schemes. 

“How? do you not see my preparations ?” with a wave of his 
hand toward the bathing apparatus. 

Keziah looked around in mild expectancy. 

“I see nothing, Calvin, but a bath tub and water supplies.” 

“Nothing?” he cried, turning into the tub the steaming hot 
water, “you see what will work a great revolution in the medi- 
cal world. These molecules of hot water shall penetrate every 
part of her poisoned being and drive out the poison — you shall 
see how it will work like a charm.” 

“But how will you control her? how make her obey you ?' 
She is half crazy — crazy people are not easily managed.” 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


101 


‘I can control her ; never fear, she will be like clay in the 
potter’s hands.” 

And, in fact, so it proved, to a certain degree. When the 
woman was arousedand offered food to eat, the old frenzy was 
alive and possessed her. She could not eat, she wanted drink, 
her hands trembled, her eyes had in them that miserably anx- 
ious, craving expression, common to inebriates on waking from 
a drunken sleep. At first she could not remember how and why 
she had come to that house. She pushed her chair from the ta- 
ble, and fixed her eyes painfully upon her host and hostess. 

“Who are you, and why am I here?” she demanded, shaking 
all over. 

Calyx explained that the lady was his sister, that he was a 
medical man, that she was ill, and they were her friends.. 

“Friends! Only mad women hope to find friends — I am not 
quite mad yet.” 

“ You are not mad, but sick — you are my patient. I mean to 
restore you to the health you enjoyed at sixteen.” 

“If you are a doctor you must know that I need a stimulant. 
I am shaken and shattered — a dose of brandy, or whiskey, or 
gin, will toneme up.” 

“If you were bitten by a mad dog, and suffered from the poi- 
son of the bite, would you wish to be bitten again ?” 

“Give me something, I care not what, but something to kill 
or quiet the devil that is here — here ! (striking her breast with 
her hand) Kill it, even if you kill me with it !” 

“Try and hold yourself still, perfectly still (he now had pos- 
session of both her hands, and held them gently but firmly in 
his own), make an effort, bring your will to life, your will lies 
dormant, drowned and drunk in alcohol, wake it up, give it 
courage and power, and you will regain your freedom from the 
despotism of Drink. Cqurage is what you need.” 

She tore her hands away. Memory of last night’s occurrences 
rushed upon her. 

“You are false — false, as all men are ! You have broken your 
word to me, and you have made me break my word to myself— 
I swore that last night should be my last on earth. You prom- 
ised me poison— you have mocked my misery and made game 
of my despair !” 

“You are wrong, you are mistaken, utterly. I have broken 
no faith with you. You shall keep your promise to yourself— 
you said you would end your bad life, and you have ended it. 
You will now begin a better. Quiet yourself. Sleep, sleep 
sleep.” 

“I can never sleep until you quiet the mad rage for drink— 
the hungry devil in here— here! (again striking her breast) here! 
where a nest of serpents live, and sting, and burn, and bite; only 
drink puts them to sleep, only drink stops their hungry rage.” 

A strange thought, like an inspiration, flashed upon the stu- 
dent’s brain. There was a legend in the Calyx family that one 


102 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


of their female ancestors had been burned as a witch, and the 
portrait of this witch-woman had descended to living represen- 
tatives^ had often been observed that our young student strong- 
ly resembled his witch ancestress. Since Calyx had discovered 
himself to possess that mysterious power over others, called 
mesmeric, thoughts of the witch-woman continually haunted 
his mind. He dreamed of her by night, and often caught him- 
self contemplating her picture, the eyes of which seemed to pos- 
sess a weird p'ower. The sudden thought came to him at that 
instant, and he felt as if it came from the weird eyes of the witch 
which watched him from the wall. 

“Very well,” he said, ‘-you shall have the drink, you shall 
kill and forever quiet the serpents in your breast. _ Keziah, be 
so kind as to bring me a glass of that burning, boiling drink in 
the vessel on the stove ?” 

The wondering but obedient Keziah poured from the tea ket- 
tle on the stove, into a glass, clear, hot water, as hot as some 
people drink their coffee. She gave it to her brother, he held it 
up and eyed it critically. The woman gazed at it with curious 
nervous eagerness. She reached her shaking hand for it. _ 

“It is very strong,” he said, still eying- it like a connoisseur 
in liquors. “Smell it; look at it; what a fine bead ! what an aro- 
ma ! in all this land there is no liquid equal to this ; oh ! this 
will tone you up (holding it high out of the reach of her eager 
hand), this will quiet your nerves and set your heart to dancing 
with delight. Wait a moment I fear you cannot stand so much, 
I fear it will make you dr.unk, it is very powerful, very pene- 
trating. Oh ! you do not know the Power that lives in this 
liquid.” 

“I know! I know! give it — the Stronger the better. Give it! give 
it ! give it !” she reached after it eagerly. 

“There — Drink! Drink! Drink!” 

By the time the last word was out of the student’s mouth the 
last drop was down the woman’s throat ; she quaffed the hot 
water with as much eager gusto as if it had been the best French 
brandy. 

The little mild seamstress looked on in mild horror. In her 
little mild heart there had for some time lurked a sort of sus- 
picion that some of the witch ancestor’s mysterious power had de- 
scended to her brother but she had never ventured to give it voice. 

Strange to say the water seemed to exercise precisely the ef- 
fect the woman had expected brandy would produce. The in- 
tense craving look in her eyes abated, a more satisfied expres- 
sion took its place, her trembling limbs seemed to gain strength 
her nerves firmness. 

“Drink is the medicine for misery ; this has helped me— more 
will help me more,” she said in good faith. 

“Keziah bring another dram,” ordered the student himself 
amazed at the phenomenon exhibited, “but not as much as the 
first or we may make her drunk.” 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


103 


“ The drunker- the better,” said the woman, “drunk is death, 
sober is life, death is what I want.” 

“Death ? and you have no fear of that hell to which self-mur- 
derers go?” asked the student. 

“Hell is here,” she cried striking her hand on her. breast, 
“here is the hell we fly from. Give me more.” 

This happened on the first day of the woman’s stay in Calyx’s 
house but not always was she so tractable, there were times 
when she became frantic to escape and destroy herself ; she 
would nave rushed to the river, or swallowed poison, or beat 
her head against the wall had she not been restrained ; she saw 
snakes and devils and malignant men in her room; sometimes she 
would fight these intruders with great fury, at other times, ter- 
ror-struck and trembling, she would cower in corners to escape 
their grasp or evade their eyes. Calyx knew that according to 
the prescribed treatment of the learned medical faculty he 
should have allayed the frenzy of the disease by moderate doses 
of the same poison that produced it ; this he had resolved he 
would not do. 

“Doctors do not cure the mania-a-potu or the delirium-tre- 
menSj ” he said, ‘ they do not eradicate the disease from the sys- 
tem, do not free it from the desire for drink, they only pull the 
patient through the excess, the heat and fury of the disease and 
leave him with every atom of his being in such a condition of 
suffering he immediately falls into his old ways of drink and 
soon has another attack ; I shall destroy the very taste for the 
damned stuff.” 

His only agent was water, inside and outside, water. When 
a frenzy seized her she was immersed in a hot bath, full length, 
her head only was left out it being supported by a broad leather 
strap across one end of the tub. She was forcibly held in this 
hot bath and cold water applied to her head until the worst 
symptoms abated and calmness w r as restored. At every re- 
newal of the frenzy the hot plunge was repeated. She was 
made to Swallow hot water by the pint — more than she had 
ever swallowed whiskey, as one of her attendants remarked. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

MR. ARTHUR INSPECTS THE TWO WEALTHY WOMEN AND 
MAKES HIS CHOICE. 

The two young girls, Miss Smidge and Miss Rosa Amelia Bick- 
ford, stood at the Institute front window watching for the coming 
of the Smidge family carriage, which was to convey them to the 
Smidge family mansion to partake of a Smidge family feast. A 
carriage drove up, but not the carriage they looked for. 

“As I live!” exclaimed Miss Smidge, “its M’liss Mopson's 
aunt come again ! Isn’t she getting good? She was here only 
yesterday.” 


104 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


Then the two ran down the hall to tell Miss Mopson that her 
aunt had come. They found Miss Mopson reading a novel, her 
eyes red with weeping over the woes of the heroine. 

“How ever you can cry over a book, I can’t see,” cried Miss 
Smidge. “I never cry unless I mash my finger with a hammer, 
or somebody steps on my toes.” 

“It’s all foolishness to cry all by yourself,” softly said Rosa 
Amelia. “What’s the use"? I cry when I want to make Mam- 
ma and Papa give in, that’s the way I got my pink silk. Mam- 
ma said I had enough dresses — I just went off and cried a little, 
and Mamma and Papa felt so sorry for me they gave right in, 
and kissed me and sent off and got the silk, and Madam Flush- 
ing made it up, it’s just too sweet !” 

Here Kitty came in with three cards. One was for Miss Mop- 
son, the girls looked at the others and opened their eyes in 
amazement. 

“Why, whatever does she mean, Mopsy ! She don’t know 
those Island girls !” 

“She never saw them ’till I introduced them yesterday.” 
said Miss Mopson sadly, as she smoothed her hair with her 
hands. 

Miss Smidge and Miss Rosa Amelia ran to the Island girls’ 
room, but the young ladies could give no explanation. 

“We’ll know when we see the lady,” said Miss Charlmonte, as 
she and her cousin started down stairs. 

“I’m going to see too,” cried Miss Smidge, “I’m dying to 
know what M’liss Mopson’ s aunt wants with those two girls she 
never saw before. Come on, Rosa, the parlor is free to us all.” 

“What now?” asked the little Rosa, pulling back. 

“Yes, now. I lost my handkerchief, I’m going to look for 
it,” and down the steps she scampered and went into the parlor, 
where the elegant Mrs Singleton sat in all the grandeur of vel- 
vets and plumes and furs. 

Behind the sofas, among the music books, under the chairs, 
in the windows, Miss Smidge searched for the handkerchief, and 
listened to the fine lady, and cut her eyes at the girls to see how 
they received what Miss Smidge thought was wonderful, viz : an 
invitation to tea, and the still more wonderful information that 
they, the Island girls,. were such dear, dear friends of Melissa 
Mopson, Melissa had so often talked to her, said the fine lady, 
of her lovely young friends, she felt gratified at making their ac- 
quaintance, and as her niece was going to take tea with her the 
next evening, she was glad of an opportunity to please her niece 
and gratify herself by inviting her niece’s lovely friends to 
spend the evening with her. Melissa was really so anxious, etc., 
etc., and her carriage would call for the young ladies. 

Miss Charlmonte was overwhelmed with astonishment, it was 
the first intimation she or her cousin had had of Miss Mopson’s 
attachment to them ; on the contrary, they had all along fancied 
Miss Mopson did not like them. Miss Charlmonte began to 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


105 


make excuses, she was stopped by entreaties. Tlie^young ladies 
really must oblige, Melissa’s evening would be spoiled if they 
failed to come — really, they must not stand on ceremony, they 
must look on her as an old friend. She was extremely fond of 
noise and of young people, she had no daughters of her own, she 
would take no denial. So she kissed all three and sailed out like 
a princess. 

Miss Smidge darted out and flew up stairs, breathless and ea- 
ger to discuss the singular occurrence with her friend. 

The idea of M’lss Mopson loving those Island girls ! why, 
she fairly hates ’em, I know she does !” 

“But why did her aunt say so then?” asked the bewildered 
Rosa Amelia, totally unable to penetrate the mystery. 

“Here comes M’liss, maybe she can explain. M’liss, how 
happened you never before let out how much you loved the Island 
girls? Why, how sweet you are! what do you mean? As I 
live, she has been at it again.” 

The first part of the sentence was screamed down the stair- 
way, over the balusters, to Miss Mopson, who was on the lower 
steps, slowly coming up. The latter part referred to the fresh 
tears Miss Smidge saw in that young lady’s eyes. 

The carriage came and the three girls were driven to Mrs. 
Singleton’s residence, which was some distance from the Insti- 
tute. They were received with affectionate cordiality and kisses 
by the handsome lady, and polite admiration by the handsome 
boys. There was a very fine piano on which it was a treat to 
play, after having used the old rattle-trap at the Institute. Miss 
Mopson preferred the guitar, The guitar had a broad blue rib- 
bon to hang over the performer’s neck. Miss Mopson thought 
the ribbon becoming, and besides she only loved to warble gen- 
tle little love ditties of a tearful, melancholy nature. 

After the girls had had their tea and played until they were 
tired, the door opened and two visitors came in like a gust of 
wind, both were so full and overflowing with animal life. The 
one was a lady of about thirty-five years, a large, stout form, full 
ruddy face, beaming and glowing with cheerfulness and happi- 
ness. This was Mrs. Amelia Tubinger. The gentleman was 
her nephew, no other than the promising young lawyer, Black* 
stone Coke Sharpe, Esq. Mrs. Tubinger gushingly kissed her 
dear friend, Mrs. Singleton, and when introduced to the girls 
gave each one a resounding smack on [the cheek and said “she 
was awfully glad to see ’em.” 

Mrs. Singleton and Mrs. Tubinger sat together on a sofa in 
friendly talk, the three young girls occupied another sofa, before 
which the young aspirant to the White House planted himself, 
to the exclusion of the two boys, who were modestly seated at 
either end of the sofa, satisfied to have the beauty of Miss Ash- 
ford to gaze upon. 

The young lawyer, in all the pride of a stubby beard, which 
grew so thick and coase he shaved it sfif every day, quite ignored 


106 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


the presence of the boys, they were too juvenile to rank with 
men. Mr. Sharpe laid himself out to entertain, he could not 
have taken more trouble had he been addressing a jury, his con- 
versation took a wide and sweeping range. Poetry, romance, 
painting, sculpture, theaters, schools, churches, earth, air and 
water, each and all received a dash and a splash from the fine 
oratorical fancy of the young lawyer. Miss Mopson listened 
entranced, she felt that no hero of romance, not even the all-ac- 
complished and fascinating Lord Mortimer himself, could 
have talked more beautifully. In one of the pauses he made, 
seeing a rather abstracted look in Miss Charlmonte’s eyes, he 
cried out briskly. 

“A penny for your thoughts, Miss Charlmonte.” 

The girl said she could not sell her thoughts so cheaply, and 
asked what he would think if any one of his clients were to offer 
him a poor little penny for his thoughts. 

“ Very good! ha! ha! ha! very good indeed ! Quite a legal 
mind, Miss Charlmonte. Upon my word, very good ! ha ! 
ha! ha!” 

The Island girls laughed out. His hilarity was catching. 
There was something refreshing in the bold self-confidence and 
self-satisfaction of the young man. They laughed with him and 
at him. Miss Mopson saw nothing to laugh at, she listened and 
looked in tearful admiration. 

He asked the girls if they had read Bulwer’s last novel. Miss 
Charlmonte replied that it was against the Institute laws to read 
novels, she confessed, however, that the laws were sometimes 
broken and a novel was now and then smuggled into the house. 
Whereupon Miss Mopson, feeling *guilty, as at that very mo- 
ment the tear-stained history of the “Children of the Abby”was 
lying under her pillow, blushed beneath the bold black eyes of 
the young lawyer, who perceived and received the blush as a 
tribute to his own charms. He smiled approvingly on the tim- 
id Miss Mopson, who blushed more vividly than before. 

Miss Ashford wondered how the young lawyer found time to 
read so many novels and so much law too, she had always had 
the idea that law was a most exacting profession, her uncle in 
Charleston had'been a lawyer, and her mamma had often said 
that he had killed himself by over work. 

The young fellow was immensely proud of his profession, 
nothing pleased him so much as an opportunity to “blow” about 
it to the ignorant. 

“Quite right, Miss Ashford, quite right. It’s a tremendous 
profession — tremendous — immense pressure on the brain — im- 
mense \ Lawyers, ladies, couldn’t get on without the midnight 
oil, positively couldn’t.” 

The young ladies murmured something that was accepted as 
encouragement, and the young lawyer continued. 

“Now, there’s Bulwer’s last novel, ladies, just finished-splen- 
did work— splendid ! (Here Mr. Sharpe’s heavy black brows 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


107 


knotted themselves together severely, and the merry black eyes 
took on a look of dark and deep profundity) A work, ladies, 
founded on a celebrated case in the courts of England — a crimi- 
nal case — rather too severe a subject for the — ha! — (all of a sud- 
den the deep and dark profundity disappeared and gave place 
to the bright, merry look) — rather too severe for the female 
mind — too legal-too abstruse. It has been observed by philoso- 
phers, ladies, and by statesmen, that the female mind — fond of 
flowers and fancies — ha ! not at all suited-not adapted to the se- 
vere regions of the law — ha ! Am I right, ladies ?” 

Something was again murmured by the girls which encour- 
aged Mr. Sharpe in the belief that he was right, and he resumed 
his instructive remarks, 

“From the earliest periods it has been observed that the fe- 
male mind, naturally prone to poetry, love, romance (here the 
bold, black eyes happened to rest on the wonnering and ad- 
miring blue orbs of Miss Mopson, who blushed vividly) — poetry, 
love, romance — naturally suited to your charming sex — is by no 
means fitted to tackle the — abstruseness of the law.” 

This logical proposition meeting with approval from the three 
female minds present, Mr. Blackstone Coke Sharpe stretched 
himself back in his chair both hands thrust deep down in his 
pockets, and looked from that lofty intellectual eminence, down 
on the trio of female minds before him, that sort of good humor- 
ed, indulgent expression in his merry black eyes, which great' 
men exhibit when viewing with indulgence the antics of children. 

Miss Mopson’s little heart beat, and her little face flushed be- 
neath his glance. Miss Charlmonte ventured to remark that if 
the laws were all written down in plain English perhaps even 
female minds might comprehend them. 

“A very natural mistake, ladies, a very natural mistake for 
the female mind to fall into — 'very, indeed; but to us — to the 
great men of the profession — I assure you, it’s quite the re- 
verse — quite so, indeed ; to us, law is as plain as A B C — fully 
as plain. The framers of our System of law, ladies — if I may be 
pardoned for speaking of so abstruse a subject to such fair audit- 
ors — according to my view of it, kept one ooject steadily in view, 
viz: first and foremost, above all other things, ladies, they strove 
to lift and hold the law above the common people. How could 
that best be done ? Evidently by elevating it into a difficult 
and intricate study, entirely too difficult and too intricate for 
the comprehension of the common mind. Now, I put it to you, 
ladies, if the laws were laid down so that he who runs may read, 
what would become of our great profession ? We lawyers, with 
Othello, would exclaim, ‘Our occupation’s gone.’ You catch 
the idea, ladies? You comprebed?” 

Miss Mopson blushed, and the other girls murmured some- 
thing to the effect that Mr. Blackstone C. Sharpe made the mat- 
ter so plain that even feeble female jninds caught glimpses of 
his jneaping, 


108 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


“We understand, Mr. Sharpe,” said Miss Charlmonte sympa- 
thetically, “you do not wish your profession injured by putting 
it down to the comprehension of everybody, especially of the fe- 
male mind.” 

“Exactly; you hit the nail on the head, ladies — exactly. 
Your remark, ladies, bring to mind an observation made bv a 
profound philosopher, relative to the female mind — very pro- 
found (here for an instant came on one of Mr. Sharp’s sternest 
looks), who observed that though the female mind be incapable 
of (darkly stern) — of abstract reason or logic, it can, in fact, as a 
compensation, it does possess the power to perceive intuitively 
— to pierce, if I may so express myself, to the very arcana of 
science by intuition. In short (here the sternness fled and the 
jovial expression returned) in short, ladies, it may be said, man 
reasons, and woman — lovely woman (a look at Miss Mopson), is 
all heart and soul — man, all intellect and reason.” 

After a few minutes silent enjoyment of the situation, Mr. 
Sharpe resumed: 

“Now ladies, if you please, if you will permit me, ladies (with 
a gallant bow to the trio, he hardly seemed conscious of the ex- 
istence of the boys) I will make this plain to your comprehen- 
sion.” 

The young ladies expressed thanks, and Mr. Sharpe hauled 
from his pocket a package of papers, and took thence one of 
formidable proportions, being twelve or fifteen pages of legal 
cap, closely covered with writing; said paper being a conve}'- 
ance of a small house and lot, from John Pudding, Esq., to Sam- 
uel Bagg, for the sum of one thousand two hundred and fifty dol- 
lars, cash down. The young ladies gazed at the formidable pa- 
per, in wonder at what would next come. 

“Now,” said the young man, holding up the paper that all 
might see and admire, his black eyes beaming first on the paper 
then on his auditors, with something of the air of a conjurer who 
says, “Keep your eyes open and you’ll see wonders,” “now, la- 
dies, look at this paper ! Well, I dare say, if I should read it to 
you, it wonld sound like Greek or Choctaw, or any other gibber- 
ish, yet, to the legal mind, it is as plain as A B C, it is got up 
strictly after the legal style, in fact, I wrote it myself.” 

“Then,” said Miss Ashford, with a sweet smile, “if you wrote 
it it is bound to be nice.” 

“On my soul, I wrote it. It’s for this, ladies, we burn the 
midnight oil — hard (here the darkly stern look took the place 
of the beaming) — the very hardest study, ladies, fetches a paper 
like that.” 

Miss Charlmonte and Miss Ashford both said, “Indeed !” They 
were glad to know about it, and if not too much trouble, they 
would like to have Mr. Sharpe read the paper, and then trans- 
late it into plain English . 

Mr. Sharpe beamed and glowed upon them. It was highly 
gratifying to him to see female minds exhibit interest in iiufe- 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


109 


jects of such importance — highly gratifying, and highly com- 
mendable. Anything to please the ladies — he would take great 
pleasure, though he gave them warning it would prove Choc- 
taw. Then with a confident air and stentorian tones, the young 
man read aloud the deed of conveyance, taking great delight in 
its circumlocution, its repetitions, its numerous “whereases” 
and “first parties” and “second parties,” and “to have and to 
hold,” “heirs and consigns” and other words that ornament 
legal documents. When through he asked if they had any idea 
what it all meant. 

“But you know, you promised to translate it, Mr. Sharpe,” said 
Miss Ashford politely. 

“Oh ! you must tell us what it means,” said her cousin. 

“Do — please,” murmured Miss Mopson, and then blushed un- 
der the beaming and bold black eyes. 

“Oh ! that’s easily done,” cried the beaming young man, 
“that can be done in few words, no trouble at all about that — it 
only means that one, John Pudding, Esq., sells to one, Samuel 
Bogg, Esq., a small house and lot for twelve hundred and fifty 
dollars, cash down — that’s all.” 

And the young fellow glowed upon them with such pride and 
gratification in the learning displayed in the lengthy document, 
that the amiable Miss Ashford, with good-natured intent to keep 
full his cup of pleasure, expressed great wonder at the learning 
necessary to legal work. Miss Carlmonte said that it was now 
clear to her mind why the use of plain language, such as ordi- 
nary people would understand, would ruin the profession. 

At this instant Mr. Arthur Singleton entered the room, his 
sister came forward and introduced him to the two Island girls 
and the widow Tubinger, and this was the beginning of an ac- 
quaintance that was destined to grow to a greater intimacy than 
the Island girls dreamed of, for Mrs. Singleton would take no 
denial, and insistecUffhat the girls should return next Friday. 
The boys would be off at school, she would be all by herself — 
they must take pity upon a lonely woman, and give her a little 
•noise at least once a week. So, to their own surprise, when the 
two Island girls were put in the carriage with their hostess’ 
niece, they felt themselves bound by an engagement for the next 
Friday. All three were silent and reflective during the drive. 

“We should have refused,” said Miss Ashford, in the privacy 
of their own room. 

“Where is the harm?” said the more adventurous Roma. 

“That piano is a great temptation. We will improve twice as 
fast in our music.” 

“But we know nothing of them, they are strangers to us,” 
urged the more cautious cousin. 

“We’ll make Ed call for us next Friday, and he’ll know all 
about it. I really want Ed to know that delightful Mr. Sharpe.” 

“And how about the elegant Mr s Singleton ? He seemed Very 

attentive to you, Ksma.” 


110 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


“And very attentive to Mrs. Tubinger. Aunt and nephew are 
both refreshing.” 

“Yes; as a great gust of wind. They are a handsome fam- 
ily.” 

“The Tubingers ?” 

“No; the Singletons; all of them handsome. I do not ex- 
actly admire the style though.” 

“Why not?” asked Miss Roma, “It’s a very distingue style. 
She looks like a French Marquise of the old regime, the boys 
are both handsome, and their uncle too.” 

“But there is something I don’t exactly like,” persisted the 
beauty. “Their eyes are all too close together. I like broad 
eyes.” 

“Broad eyes ! I never saw a broad eye.” 

“You know what I mean — broad between the eyes.” 

That night Mr. Arthur informed his sister that, by all means, 
the girl was his preference, and that indefatigable sister made up 
her mind that she would leave no stone unturned to bring her 
scheme to a successful issue. In order to do this the girl must 
be had at her house as often as possible, as her brother could 
not visit the Institute; meanwhile she cautiously determined not 
altogether to lose sight of the widow who already had the dead 
man’s shoes. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

DOLLY AND THE LOCKSMITH. 

About the middle of March the small tenement house in which 
Dolly and the Gaff family lodged had very few occupants. Car- 
son had long disappeared, the Gaff family (after the death of the- 
Gaff man of a pleurisy caught by exposure during a drunken 
spree) had been assisted by friends and moved to the country 
where they raised chickens and potatoes for the market. Dolly 
still retained her room and acted as agent to show the rooms to 
persons in search of lodgings. It was on a warm day that Dolly 
sat at her window sunning herself and sinking at the top of her 
voice, swaying her lean body back and forth to the music of her 
song. She was engaged in the pleasing occupation of patching 
a flannel petticoat but she was not so intent either on her sew- 
ing or her singing as not to be aware that she was closely 
watched by the enemy over the way. Dolly had an instinctive 
knowledge that her songs and her presence at the window was 
annoying to the “Arish ’ooman,” therefore she had raised the 
window so that as much as possible of the sound and the sight 
might annoy. Ever and anon, without pausing, the negress 
would slyly from the corners of her eyes dart a glance over the 
way, at such times, she caught glimpses of the red-haired Mike 
$pd his lugubrious mama, as J)olly imagined, looking wrathfully 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


Ill 


distressed ; this so encouraged her she lifted up her voice higher 
and swayed her body with more fervor. After exhausting her 
repertoire of religious songs Dolly broke forth with one of those 
wierd African wails sometimes sung at corn-shuckings or gather- 
ings of a funereal nature. These African songs were especially 
offensive to Mrs. Flood who firmly believed they were inspired 
by the devil himself. 

DOLLY’S AFRICAN WAIL. 

I. 

Way down in Eboe ! way down in Eboe ! 

Oh ! dar is de wastes’ o’ de wus’ niggah pens, 

Chock full up wid ’oomens ; chock full up wid mens, 

Dey’s druv by de fifties ;dey’s druv by de tens, 

Way down in Eboe ! "way down in Eboe ! 

II. 

De Guinees is dar, an’ de Naugees too, 

Dar niggars is sole a big ’bacca chew, 

Sole for buttons, sole for beads, sole for new par shoe, 

Way down in Eboe ! way down in Eboe ! 

III. 

De white man he come wid de drink made o’ fiah, 

De black man he drinked, he drinked widout tiah, 

He fall dis way, an’ dat way, in de sof ’ miah, 

Way down in Eboe ! way down in Eboe ! 

IV. 

He wake up, he see de wide watah all roun’, 

He heali it a roah, he heah, too, de soun’, 

Ob de niggahs a moanin’ an’ groanin’ all roun’, 

Way down in Eboe ! way down in Eboe ! 

V. 

De babies is dar, at der black mammies’ breas’, 

Oh ! little dey knows, while takin’ der res’, 

O’ de troubles an’ mubbles a cornin’ ter press^ 

Way down in Eboe ! way down in Eboe ! 

VI. 

Oh ! de niggah he long fur de lan’ lef ’ behin’, 

De lan’ o’ de lion, whar de hottes’ sun shine, 

De lan’ o’ de tigahs, de lan’ o’ his kin’, 

Way down in Eboe ! way dow r n in Eboe ! 

“Fetch the blasted nager !” muttered Mrs. Flood on whom 
this outlandish wail made a very disagreeable impression, “she’s 
the divil’s darter; - no Christian cratur ever howled that way 
afore.” 

The good woman’s attention was diverted a moment from her 
’black enemy to a little barefooted urchin with tattered hat and 
hands thrust deep into his pockets, who, with the bold inde- 
pendence of a millionaire, demanded to he supplied with “three 
cents wuth o’ taffy candy.” The candy was delivered, the young 
millionaire marched put one hand still in one pocket, Hie other 


112 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


holding the taffy to his mouth in the full enjoyment of its sweet- 
ness. Once more alone Mrs. Flood again cast her eyes over to 
the enemy’s side. The enemy’s voice had ceased its song, the 
body its swayings, the black lips were dropped apart, the rest- 
less eyes were fixed and staring on an object which was directly 
in front of the negress’ open window. This object was a very 
ordinary looking individual wearing a rough working coat and a 
cloth cap — a short, thick-set man with a heavy face and heavy, 
slow eyes, complexion hair and eyes all of a dull, clayey color. 
This individual carried in his hand a little old fashioned trunk 
covered with untanned cow skin, tied up with a rope in default 
of a lock and key, the rope serving as a handle. 

Dolly stared at the man and the man’s heavy eyes were fixed 
on Dolly. 

“So you know me ?” said the man putting that interpretation 
on the negress’ expressive face.; 

With that instinct of cunning which seems to be innate in the 
African nature, in an instant Dolly retrieved the mistake she had 
made by exhibiting surprise in the recognition of the man. By 
some occult power she drew down over her little, restless eyes a 
glaze of dullness and stupidity. 

“Know you?” she muttered, looking at the man through that 
dull glaze, “how you spec I gwine know a pusson I neber lay 
eyes on afore ?” 

Now this strategy would have failed to deceive notwithstand- 
ing the perfectly natural way in which it was executed, had the 
man been able to divine any possible motive which could induce 
Dolly to deny that she had ever seen him before. The absence 
of motive made him fall into the trap. It did not occur to him 
him that it might be the woman’s natural instinct to hide and 
that she might act on that instinct without motive. 

“You never ^aw me before ?” asked the man, completely taken 
in by Dolly’s inimitable acting and thinking to himself “what 
fools these niggers be.” 

“Neber as I knows on,” replied the negress slowly shaking 
her head from side to side at the same time steadily and stolidly 
looking in the man’s face — tying so like truth it seemed truth 
itself. She knew the man to be Carson, the dissipated lock- 
smith, the moment she set her eyes upon him. 

What inherited instinct, from what cause begun on her remote 
ancestors, operating on her progenitors from generation to gen- 
eration, had prompted this deception without any definite object 
in view, we leave to the Biologists and Psychologists to explain. 
We only record the fact that, without any definite motive, any 
hope of gain or benefit to herself, the negress acted on the in-' 
stinct of secretiveness and denied that she had ever before seen 
Carson, the locksmith, for he it was, although she perfectly well 
remembered him and remembered the conversation to which she 
had secretly listened, which hftd introduced into her rather lim* 


black AND WHITE. 113 

ited repertoire of English words one she had never before heard 
— dockymen. 

Perfectly convinced that she was only a “fool of a nigger” 
Carson asked if there were any rooms to rent in the house? 

There were rooms to rent and Dolly took down from a nail a 
bunch of keys and led the way upstairs, first opening the Gaff 
room for inspection then the one next which was the same that 
Carson had lodged in during the winter. This last room Carson 
decided he would take. Dolly directed him to go to the 
owner of the house, who was a groceryman living about two 
squares off, and pay for the first week in advance. Carson left 
his cowskin covered trunk with the negress and departed on that 
mission. She watched him till he had turned the corner with 
that same dull haze over her little black eyes, when he was quite 
out of sight a sudden change swept over the negress — a transfig- 
uration as swift as if blown by the wind — the haze vanished from 
her eyes, they danced with viperish activity. Getting behind 
the window so that her natural enemy, the “Arish ’ooman” over 
the way could not witness her antics, Dolly gave herself up to 
an ecstacy, if we may so speak, of self gratulation at the success 
of her strategy. 

“Hi! hi! hi!” she panted under her breath, her lean body 
doubled up in a convulsive fit of mirth, “hi ! hi ! hi ! dat ’ar po’ 
white trash tink dis niggah’s a big fool ! wot a fool he is ! hi ! 
hi ! hi ! widout no spec’ o’ spicion-^-he aint got dat much sense 
in his fool head !” snapping her claw-like finger and thumb in 
the air and turning up her nose in high contempt. The sudden 
return of Carson, evidenced by a knock on the door, in a flash 
brought every feature of the black face, every nerve of the lean 
body to order, dull stupidity took the place of activity of body 
and mind and when Carson received his cowskin trunk he saw 
nothing to change his opinion that she was intensely stupid and 
intensely stolid. Dolly followed him up stairs with smiling hu- 
mility. 

“Massa,” she said, dropping a curtesy as Carson deposited his 
cowskin trunk in a corner of the room, “Massa, please ter gin 
me the job o’ chambermaid in yo’ room, I does it better ’n any o’ 
dese po’ Arish white trash wliar isn’t used to fust quality ways 
— I does.” 

“Go long,” replied the man gruffly, “I dont want anything of 
you.” 

Carson started down the stairway followd by Dolly, as he was 
going out of the front door she asked if he would be gone long ? 

He turned on her with an angry scowl “ What the h — 1 do you 
want to know for ?” 

“I’s de do’ keepah now,” said Dolly, smilingly, “I wants to 
go down de ally to see how Sister Johnson’s agettin’ Tong, she’s 
been monsus poly dese few days and dey do say as de good Lord 
liev called her to hisse’f.” 

“If he’d call you to himself,” muttered the locksmith glower- 


114 


black and white. 


ing at her, dull displeasure in his dull eyes, “there’d be one fool 
less on earth.” 

“Tanky, Massa, tanky,” returned Dolly, dropping a curtesy 
with the pleasantest of smiles as if a boon had been bestowed, 
“dat’s a good wud for a po’ sinnah — it is dat — sho.” 

She shook her head with an air of piety and wiped the corner 
of her left eye with the corner of the checked cotton handker- 
chief pinned across her bosom ; on the whole she presented 
such a perfect picture of negro innocence that nine hundred and 
ninety-nine men out of a thousand would have sworn she was 
Truth itself. 

“Well what has that to do with my going out?” asked the an- 
gry but deceived Carson. 

“Don’t you see, Massa, ef I goes out ter see Sister Johnson an’ 
locks de doah, as de boss ’specially ’structs me ter do, when I 
goes out, an Massa happens ter come back ’fo I does, how he 
gvvine get in? Dats de obstroperlous question dat bovers dis 
niggahs mine.” 

“You have no night key to the front door?” asked the man 
slightly mollified at this explanation of the interest she took in 
his goings out and comings in. 

“Nary nudder key, Massa, nary nudder.” 

“Very well then I’ll be back at six o’clock, you be on hand to 
let me in — mind.” 

Doll}'- assured him she’d be all right, she never forgot the 
door “nor de gemmens dat lodged in de house.” Carson walked 
away leaving Dolly standing in the door looking at him till he 
disappeared from sight. Then slowly returning to her own room 
after locking the front door, shaking her head in deep reflection 
she communed with herself: 

“Dis chile’s gwine ter fine out what datar’ man’s up ter,widhis 
dockymens and his har trunks ; he aint arter no good sho,” wag- 
ging her turbaned head in deep perplexity. All of a sudden a 
way seemed opened to her, object, her head stopped wagging, it 
tossed itself triumphantly back, she snapped her black fingers 
contemptuously in the direction the man had departed, a broad 
grin, showing the two rows of her white teeth, brightened and 
lightened the inky aspect of her face. 

“Dis chile’ll git him yet; dis chile’ll git him yet,” she mut- 
tered to herself. 

Taking down a key from a nail she tiptoed upstairs as stealth- 
ily as if eyes and ears were all around her, unlocked the Gaff 
room went in and stood for some minutes, her gaze bent on that 
comer where she had once crouched behind the stove and lis- 
tened to the men in the next room. Her turbaned head bent on 
one side, she indulged in another fit of deep reflection. The 
Gaff room was empty, not a piece of furniture in it, the four bare 
walls, none too white and clean, and the grease spotted floor 
were all that presented themselves to Dolly’s eyes, but it seemed 
a s if her mind’s eye saw more than these, she stood staring at 


black and white. 


115 


the corner as if it contained some phantom of the past or some 
solution of the problem that perplexed her brain. Either 
from the corner of the room or from some dark corner of her 
African occiput a satisfactory scheme crept up and presented it- 
self as a means to satisfy her curiosity. Her countenance 
cleared and she set herself earnestly to work. Going down 
stairs to her own room she brought thence a pair of old quilts 
which she spread on the floor making a soft carpet from the door 
to the corner which she had eyed so intently, then she proceeded 
to inspect the plank partition which separated the Gaff room 
from the one Carson had engaged. Closely examining the boards 
she discovered a small knot which by working at some little 
time she prized out with a nail pulled from the wall, applying 
her eye to the hole she found that it commanded a view of the 
one window Carson’s room contained. Humming a song as she 
worked Dolly again went to her room and brought up this time, 
first, an old tattered and worn out calico dress, next a flat iron. 
The flat iron she used as a hammer to drive the nail in the plank 
about a foot above the hole left by the extracted knot, on the 
nail she hung the old calico dress. In this way the hole w^s 
darkened and concealed from sight. These few and innocent 
preparations completed Dolly once more returned to her own 
room resumed her seat by the window in full view of her natural 
enemy across the street, lighted her pipe and, as she smoked, 
fell into a pious frame of mind. She had always been subject to 
severe fits of piety, while the fit lasted it entirely changed the 
expression of her countenance, the little restless eyes took on a 
subdued look, the quick, nervous actions of her lean body so- 
bered down, her head moved from side to side with solemn mo- 
notony, frequent groans and ejaculations- broke from her sur- 
charged breast as if it were heavily freighted with prayerful and 
penitential feelings which her pious soul was laboring to expel. 

“Lord ’a’ mussy !” she groaned, “Lord ’a’ mussy on dis sin- 
ful wul. Lord ’a’ massy on dis po’ mis’able sinful wul !” 

After a few minutes given to smoke and pious meditation her 
feelings again found vent in groans and words, taking, her pipe 
from between her lips she groaned and sighed and sighed and 
groaned. 

“Laws ’a’ mussy ! good Laws ’a’ mussy ! Look down on dese 
po’ mis’able sinnahs!” she murmured, after which she fell into 
a soothing revery, looking down on the floor and slowly wagging 
her head from side to side. 

“De wahfah’s goin’ on, ’’she muttered, “de wahfah’s goin’ on ; 
Satan is de inemy, an’ de devil is at wuk. Bress de Lawd fur 
his mussies ! bress de good Lawd fur his many mussies ! he am 
de captain! he am de ’spote in de days o’ triberlation— Glory 
hallelujah ! glory hallelujah !” 

After thus relieving her surcharged soul Doily dropped off into 
a doze and fell into a series of nods, her head going down so low 
and jerking itself up so quickly, doing the same thing over and 


116 


BLACK AND WH1TK. 


over it really seemed wonderful that she should enjoy that way 
of resting when she was within five feet of a comfortable bed on 
which she might have stretched herself and slept without inter- 
ruption. A loud knock at the door startled her, opening her 
eyes she stared around, the knock was repeated, she pricked her 
ears forward and at the third knock rose and went to the door. 
By this time it was dark yet she saw by the dim light that the 
knocker was the new lodger ; he went straight up stairs. Dolly 
pulled off her shoes and stole up after him, went into the Gaff' 
room and closed the door behind her. Softly pushing aside the 
old calico dress that hung over the knot hole she applied her eye 
and looked into Carson’s apartment. She heard him moving 
about in the dark, presently he struck a match and lighted a 
candle, next he took a flat bottle from his pocket and set it in 
the window with a glass, a pipe and a pitcher of water. These 
preparations made, the locksmith dropped down heavily on the 
chair which was by the window and proceeded to enjoy himself. 
Dolly had full view of this window, consequently witnessed every 
movement. First he poured a little from the bottle into the glass 
then a little water, drank it down, lighted his pipe, smoked a 
while in stolid satisfaction, then renewed the mixture in the 
glass, drank it down and smoked as before. This regular alter- 
nation of smoke and drink was carried on until the locksmith’s 
head sank down on his breast in a drunken stupor, the pipe fell 
from his hand, the candle burned low, flickered and flamed out 
leaving the man, the bottle and the pipe in pitch darkness and 
Dolly in a state of wonderment. 

“W.ot a wul — wot a wul!” she muttered to herself as she 
slowly made her way down stairs to her own room, “wot a quar 
wul dis is an’ wot quar ways po’ white folks do have a’ drinkin’ 
der sevs dead drunk all by der po’ lone sevs, Lor ! Lor !” 


CHAPTER XV. 

Mrs. Singleton had no easy part to play in the business she 
had set herself to do. Determined that her brother should mar- 
ry a rich woman, she had placed before him two for his inspec- 
tion, he had made his choice, but all was not as smooth sailing 
as she would have liked. The love-making did not proceed as 
rapidly as she deemed advisable. The girl showed a character 
a little different from what she had looked for in so young a 
school girl. She was more independent, less impressible, and 
less sentimental. She had such decided ideas of the sort of a 
man she would admire, and Mrs. Singleton was quite conscious 
that her brother did not in the least resemble that ideal man the 
girl had in her mind’s eye. Then her brother gave her trouble, 
he found it a great bore to make himself agreeable to a “bread 
and butter school girl,” he especially found it up-hill work to 
keep up the role his sister told him it was necessary to act, viz : 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


11 


that of a philanthropic enthusiast, contemplating schemes for 
the betterment of the world. The observant Mrs. Singleton 
soon discovered that such was the benf of the girl’s mind. Un- 
der these rather discouraging circumstances, Mrs. Singleton 
often found it necessary to romance to the girl, in fact, such was 
her tact and art, she succeeded in giving Roma the idea that 
Arthur very much resembled her ideal man. Having 
learned that Roma admired literary men, Mrs. Singleton would 
take occasion to refer to Arthur’s “article in the paper,” “Ar- 
thur’s letter from Europe which was published in the paper” — 
and then, having paved the way, wishing to apologize for her 
brother’s absence, on one occasion when both the Widow Tu- 
binger and the girls were spending the evening with her, she said 
that Arthur kept himself so close of late she hardly got a word 
with him from week’s end to week’s end, she would be glad 
when he finished his book. 

“What book?” asked the widow. 

“My dear, he is writing a book of travels. You know he was 
in Europe five years; well, he studied closely the manners and cus- 
toms of the people, especially the laboring classes. Arthur takes 
a deep interest in the condition of the poor. But the book’s a 
secret — he doesn’t want it mentioned until it comes from the pub- 
lishers.” 

“Oh ! it must be delightful to write a book ! I wish I could 
do it. I’d like it of all things.” 

This was the gushing of the gay widow. Roma said nothing, 
but it made an impression on her mind not easily effaced. 

Sometimes it seemed as if the affair did not progress one step, 
then Mrs. Singleton would grow disheartened and urged her 
brother to pay some attention to the widow — the girl might 
elude their toils. She appeared at times exceedingly indifferent; 
not so with the widow, who openly admired him, and, as the 
sister believed, would take him at the “drop 1 of a hat.” 

“By George,” growled Arthur, whose mind was far more 
set on gaming than on getting a wife, “do you expect a fellow to 
court two women at tine same time?” 

Sometimes the two Island girls proved refractory, and made 
excuses, and remained away from Mrs. Singleton’s teas, not- 
withstanding that lady’s affectionate notes of invitation. The 
first time they refused to go, Miss Mopson, sweetly but sadly re- 
joiced, invited Miss Smidge to accompany her to her aunt’s. 
Her aunt had not in so many words forbidden her to bring any 
other of her school friends, and Melissa thought she would be 
serving her aunt by giving her the young company she so much 
affected to desire. The first glance of her aunt’s eyes, as her 
niece introduced her friend, Miss Smidge, sent poor Me- 
lissa down to the low depths of dismalness. The reception was 
cold and frigid, the two lines deepened between her aunt’s hand- 
some brows. Luckily Miss Smidge was of a comfortable nature 
and saw nothing amiss in her reception. Punching her compan- 


118 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


ijn with her elbow, as she stared around the room, Miss Smidge 
in a loud whisper said : 

“Lord, Mopsy ! how fine we are !” 

When taking tea, she smacked her lips and giggled at the 
tempting edibles before her, and expressed a wish that old Fin- 
isher would furnish ’em good grub like that. Mrs. Singleton 
was coldly and proudly polite. Miss Smidge, however, per- 
ceived nothing amiss, and ate with a hearty appetite. 

Poor Melissa, wilting under her aunt’s displeasure, could -not 
swallow a bite. 

“I hope, Melissa,” said the aunt severely, “that you are not 
about to fall ill.” 

A briny tear rolled down the little round cheek and dropped 
into Melissa’s plate, she choked, and stammered out that she 
was quite well — “only a — a headache,” 

“Lord, M’liss !” cried Miss Smidge, her mouth full '’of seed 
cake, “What a goosy you are not to eat ! And you were so aw- 
ful hungry when we left Old Finisher’s. You'd better lay in 
while you have a chance — we don’t get feed like this every day, 
we don’t.” 

Miss Smidge was certainly acting up to her own advice, and 
“laying in,” as she elegantly expressed it. 

After tea the ladies were joined by Mr. Sharpe and his aunt. 
Mrs. Tubinger, and Mr. Arthur Singleton, who came 
with the resolution of pushing matters with the Island heiress, 
and was somewhat disappointed at finding himself forced to do 
duty to the widow. 

Mr. Sharpe had begun to find his evenings at Mrs. Singleton’s 
very much to his taste, he felt that the female mind he discover- 
ed in Miss Mopson was very much the sort he considered fit and 
proper for women to possess. When Miss Mopson threw the 
blue ribbon over her neck and warbled in the softest of tones to 
the tinkling of the guitar, the softest of sentimental songs, Mr. 
Sharpe felt that he had lound fhe ideal woman, and lost no 
chance of impressing that fact upon the gentle Melissa; and the 
gentle Melissa’s little heart received its full measure of hap- 
piness from the belief that she had found and won the most 
brilliant as well as the most profound mind of the age. Such is 
life ; and yet, mistaken Shakespeares will say the course of true 
love never does run smooth. Who has not seen the smoothness 
of a hundred loves of a hundred Sharpes and Mopsons ? 

In order to induce the Island girls to come to her, Mrs. Single- 
ton invited their friends, Charlmonte and Wilmer. At first she 
was somewhat afraid that Charlmonte might have designs on the 
heiress ; this fear, a little observation convinced her, was ground- 
less. She quickly perceived the devotion between Miss Ashford 
and Mr. Charlmonte. It never occurred to her to fear Wilmer,. 
for two reasons ; first, she knew that her brother was by far 
the handsomer man, the more attractive, the more gsaceful 
and 9*sy in company ; secondly-, Wilmer always gave way to- 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


119 


Singleton and paid the heiress no attention whatever while in 
her parlors. In this, however, that astute lady did not see with 
her usual clearness of vision. A silent but strong antagonism 
developed itself between Wilmer and^ Singleton, both men felt it 
both men grew fervently to detest eacho ther. Singleton felt 
that he was watched, and was uncomfortable under it. He spoke 
of it to his sister. 

“The fellow watches me like a detective,” he said. “Does he 
think I am a thief?” 

“You need not mind him,” she replied, attaching no import- 
ance to the story, “perhaps he’d like to get the heiress himself. 
You need have no fear, Arthur, he can’t stand besides you.” 

“I don’t see what you have him here for,” growled her broth- 
er. “He’s neither useful nor ornamental. Hang him !” 

“Do you suppose I could have the girl here without her 
friends ?” 

A great change was going on in Wilmer’s nature. He was no 
longer the light-hearted, ever buoj^ant young man, he became 
grave, silent, and thoughtful. His friend, Charlmonte, feared 
that financial troubles weighed upon him, when rallied he made 
an effort to appear his old self, but the old gaiety did not come ; 
he would smile and jest, but too soon he relapsed into a stern si- 
lence. Charlmonte was puzzled. Whenever Singleton and Ro- 
ma were together, Wilmer would retire to a distant corner with 
a book and, unobserved, watch the faces of the two — unobserved 
by all except Singleton, who never failed to feel when he was 
thus watched. In vain did the young student ask himself why 
he should care if this girl chose to throw herself away on a 
smooth, false pretender ; she was no relation of his, if Charl- 
monte w T as such a fool as to see it and say nothing, it was not his 
business to interfere. 

Yet, no matter how often and how strongly he might argue 
with himself against the interest he took in Roma’s affairs, he 
never succeeded in divesting himself of that interest. Could 
Wilmer have known how effectually Singleton’s sister w^as aiding 
him in his wooing of the heiress, his alarm and anxiety would 
have broken all bounds. 

One evening Mr. Arthur did not come while the young people 
were at Mrs. Singleton’s, he could not tear himself from a game 
of cards he was playing with a young fellow who had more 
money than wisdom. * Mrs. Singleton was greatly disappointed, 
as he had promised to push his suit. 

It is needless to say how much Wilmer enjoyed the absence of 
the man he disliked so intensely. 

“Ah ! my dear,” said the widow, tying on the heiress’ hood, 
as she was about departing, “it has been the grief of my life to 
see a noble fellow like Arthur, so fond as he is of domestic life, 
doomed to a desolate old-bachelor life.” 

“Doomed ? — why doomed ?” asked the young lady in wonder 
ment. 


120 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


“My dear, when Arthur was young he was too fastidious, he 
expected too much. of young ladies, he was not satisfied with 
beauty and grace of person, he wanted beauty of soul, of mind. 
Poor Arthur, Ire always said he preferred a beautifu 
to a beautiful body, an<V he never found what he w i 
when young — so few young girls have any soul, any mind, my 
dear. Ah ! your mamma should be proud of you — Good night, 
my dear ! — Good night !” 

On one occasion, after Mr. Arthur had been devoted to her all 
the evening, when Mrs. Singleton kissed the heiress good night, 
she sighed and said, it really was too hard for poor Arthur to 
find the woman he had been searching for all his life — to find 
her now that he was too old to win her. 

Too old ! 

Could she have taken a better method of turning the girl’s 
attention to the youthful, handsome, and graceful appearance of 
of her brother ? Few men of twenty were physically comparable 
to Arthur Singleton at thirty-six, and his sister very well 
knew it. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

CALYX AND HIS SISTER RECEIVE THEIR FRIENDS. 

By express nvitation of Calyx, Charlmonte, Wilmer and the 
two Island girls paid a visit to his lodgings one evening after tea. 
Charlmonte and Wilmer had seen nothing of their fellow student 
for months and were now no little astonished at the pressing in- 
vitation they received. What was the object of the invitation 
they had not the slightest idea, but as Calyx informed them that 
his sister presided over his domestic affairs Charlmonte deemed 
it proper to permit his Cousin Roma and Miss Ashford to accom- 
pany them. The little, mild seamstress welcomed them kindly ; 
with her was a little girl of six or seven years old, rather a re- 
markable child, which at once attracted the attention of the young 
ladies by her peculiarly confident air and self-willed behavior. 
Planting herself directly in front of the young ladies the child 
stared at them with her bold blue eyes. She was a fair haired, 
straight limbed, well formed little thing. 

“Tell us your name, little girl,’’ said Miss Ashford, who was 
the object of the child’s critical observation. 

“Is you got any more goodies?” asked the child in return. 

“Goodies! what sort of goodies do you want?” asked Miss 
Roma. 

“Cake and candy and on’ges,” was the ready response. 

“No, I am sorry to say we did not think about the cake and 
candy and on’ges ; perhaps we may be more thoughtful another 
time. You haven’t told us your name yet?” 

“You bringed ’em before — you thought of ’em when you come 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


121 


before, is you got any more at your house?” persisted the little 
thing, resolutely pursuing her own idea respecting the goodies, 
utterly disdaining to notice the young lady’s question. 

.“What can she mean?’’ asked Miss Charlmonte ; Miss Keziah 
did not know. Miss Keziah said she was an odd child, not like 
other children. The girls began to wonder whose child 
it was, she bore not the slightest resemblance either to the 
brother or sister Calyx. 

“Won’t you tell the ladies your name ?” asked the little seam- 
stress, gently, trying to conciliate the child. 

“No I won’t,” said the child, boldly, “they got no goodies — I 
won’t.” 

Calyx, Wilmer and Charlmonte had been talking together in 
one corner and they now came forward ; Wilmer became spokes- 
man and explained the object of the meeting. Calyx claimed, he 
said, to have made a singular discovery and wished to have his 
friends’ opinion thereof. 

“First,” said Calyx, “the child must be put to bed,” he 
looked at his sister who sadly sighed at the task before her. 

“Come with aunty to bed, dear,” said the mild, little seam- 
stress, coaxingly. 

The child braced herself against the wall and looked defiantly 
at the seamstress. 

“Come with aunty, dear, that’s a pretty girl,” still more en- 
treatingly. 

“Go away !” screamed the child, with fury, “I won’t go to 
bed ; go away ! you ugly old cat — you mean old cat ! I won’t go 
to bed ; I won’t ! I won ! I won’t!” 

“Take her bv force,” said Calyx, “let her know that she must 
obe3^ . ’ ’ 

The little, mild Keziah’s whole nature was opposed to using 
force, was by nature inclined to yield to force, in fact, had not her 
brother’s force been there to push her on, the force of the child 
would have proved the stronger. The little woman and the 
strong, resisting child went into their usual struggle, the one 
screaming at the top of her voice, kicking with her strong, little 
feet, fighting with her strong, little hands ; the other pulling by 
the arms with all her might, in the softest voice endeavoring to 
win the turbulent, little creature to obedience. By dint of perse- 
verance and sheer strength the grown woman succeeded in drag- 
ging the child out and putting her to bed. 

“How to manage that child,” said Calyx, “is, to me, a diffi- 
cult problem ; moral suasion has no effect, reasoning, entreaties 
have no effect. When she wants to do a thing that thing she is 
determined to do and no effort can make her voluntarily give up. 
She follows her impulses as blindly as an animal.” 

“Did you evef try the virtues of a switch ?” asked Roma. 

“Not yet, though sorely tempted ; the switch is an unpleasant 
remedy.” 

.“All medicines are unpleasant,” said Wilmer, “I am inclined 


122 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


to think if Miss Calyx were to give that little one a small switch- 
ing, she would think twice before throwing herself into such a 
passion.” 

When the screams and yells ceased Miss Calyx returned, pant- 
ing and out of breath. Calyx requested his sister to bring Madame 
Thebideoux in. 

The Madame was introduced to Calyx’s guests. She was a large- 
sized woman with blonde hair and blue eyes, neatly and modestly 
dressed. Calyx gave her a chair, seated himself before her and 
went through certain mesmeric motions, which, in a few minutes, 
seemed to put the woman into a profound sleep. 

“Did you over see this lady before?” asked Calyx, looking at 
his “subject,” with an air of satisfaction. 

They said they never had. 

“Charlmonte you and Wilmer have seen and talked with this 
lady.” 

They had no memory of having done so. 

“When you saw her she was suffering from a disease which 
disfigured her as much as small-pox would; she is now in a 
healthy condition.” 

“When and where have we seen her?” asked Wilmer. 

“Do you remember the woman who wanted poison on the night 
before Christmas ?” 

“You do not mean that this is that woman ?” 

“This is that woman,” returned the student, profoundly enjoy- 
ing the success of his experiment. 

“What has wrought this wonderful cure ? This woman has no 
appearance of vice, no trace of the drunkenness that was then so 
distressingly visible.” 

“The disease is driven from her system. You need not be so 
surprised, drunkenness is as much a disease as the smallpox ; 
were you to see a patient red and swollen with the smallpox 
and afterwards see him when in health, especially if no marks 
were left, you would not know him to be the same man; drink 
bloats and reddens and disfigures. She is restored to health, that 
is all. It is now the hope of my heart one day to establish a 
home, an infirmary, where I can treat drink-diseased patients and 
restore them to their natural health.” 

“Bat,” said Roma, inteiestedin the idea, “will not your pa- 
tients return to drink as soon as you let them out of your infirm- 
ary ?” 

“Of course it is possible, just as it is possible for any one to be- 
come a drunkard, but my method of treatment entirely eradicates 
the desire for drink, the taste for stimulus. Consider the fact 
that no man is born a drunkard, no child cares for alcohol or 
wine, until it is taught the liking for it. Little by little the lik- 
ing grows, the taste is fed by tasting until it becomes a craving 
that cannot be resisted. In proportion as the craving strengthens, 
the power of the will gro^vs weaker. The common error of phy- 
sicians and people in general, is that they persist in looking upon 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


123 


the habit of drinking as a moral disease, which the afflicted them- 
selves might govern. When we come to see that it is a disease 
of the body and can no more be controlled or governed by the will 
than other diseases of the body, we will see the necessity of using 
force in the treatment of drunkards just as we use force in the 
management of the insane or the smallpox patient.” 

“And you have tested your theory on this — lady?” asked 
Charlmonte. 

“You see tbte result,” said Calyx, looking with pride on the 
fair, healthful face of the sleeping woman, “you saw her condi- 
tion the night I took her in hand, you see her now.” 

“And you think there will be no return of the disease ?” 

“She is as free from it wow as she was the first time she ever 
tasted the poisonous stuff, of course the same conditions might 
bring back the same disease.” 

Roma said she hoped he would explain his system, should she 
ever become a millionaire she would help him build his infirm- 
ary ; she thought the man who discovered the cause and cure of 
drunkenness deserved to be immortalized on canvass, and in 
stone, he would rank higher than any military hero and ought to 
receive higher honors. 

“But will receive none,” said Calyx, “the theory is too sim- 
ple, too natural to win plaudits from the people ; there is no mys- 
tery or clap-trap about it, hence it will make its way very slowly 
in the world. In searching for the cause of drunkenness I started 
from the fact that the love of alcohol is not a natural taste and is 
an acquired one. The causes that lead to its acquirement I looked 
for. Were a sheep farmer to find that the great majority of his 
animals were afflicted with a perverse desire to eat weeds that 
led them to disease and death would he not look for the cause of 
that perversity of the natural instinct, which should lead to self- 
preservation, not to self-destruction ? He would not berate his 
sheep as wicked and bad, and despise and punish them, he would 
consider their surroundings, their food, their drink, the quality of 
the grass and corn they ate, the air they breathed. Men are no 
wiser than sheep, indeed not so wise, in the matter of hygiene.” 

“True — very true. You think, then, that, back of the bad habit 
of drink, lie the bad habits that caused the drink?” asked Roma. 

“I do; if you reason you cannot escape the conclusion; bad 
diet, unnatural food is at the bottom of the craving for stimu- 
lus.” 

“Unnatural food?” 

“Yes, salt, pepper, spices, tea, coffee and animal food.” 

There was a dead silence, the proposition was so new to his aud- 
itors and, if the truth must be told, seemed so inadequate to th« 
case, they knew not what to say. 

“I told you,” said Calyx, reading aright their silence, “that 
my theory was too simple, too natural to gain credence. How- 
ever I am not so irrational as to expect any immediate sign of 
success, all truths travel slowly ; it will indeed be some time be- 


124 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


fore even advanced minds can see the slow poisoning humanity 
is enduring from bad food, from doctored food.” 

“Doctored?” 

“I mean seasoned food, all seasoning is that much injury, but 
we will not dwell on that subject any longer. I wish to exhibit 
to you, especially to Wilmer, some phenomena that I do not un- 
derstand. You all probably know a little of the mystery of mes- 
merism This woman as you see is in a mesmeric sleep, you can 
test her, she is utterly insensible to sight, sounder touch from 
the outside world, except through the operator, myself. She has 
exhibited — but I will let you see for yourselves.”" 

Turning to the sleeping woman Calyx took one hand in his 
and, for a moment, looked at her intently. 

“Drusilla are you attending?” he asked. 

“Y-e-s,” was the labored reply, as if coming from a long dis- 
tance, from another world as Keziah thought ; Keziah did not at 
all approve of such experiments. 

“Is any one with me now ?” was the next question. 

“Y-e-s,” as before, labored and from a long distance. 

“Who is it?” 

“The — same.” 

“Who is it ?” 

There was no response. 

“Look closely, can you see who it is?” 

“A — woman.” 

“What is her name ?” 

No response. 

“When did she leave this life ?” 

“Sixteen — hun-dred — sixty — five. ’ ’ 

This was delivered very slowly and seemingly with great ef- 
fort, long pauses between words and syllables. 

“What disease ended her life?” 

“Ig-no-rance.” 

“Ignorance? yes that ends many lives,” said Calyx, reflect- 
ively, then he went on : 

“What form did the ignorance assume?” 

“ Ac-cu-sers ju-ry — -judge — hang-man. ’ ’ 

The little seamstress turned pale, the story that an ancestress 
of theirs had been hung for witchcraft rose to her memory. 

“Will you be so good as to get the person’s name?” asked 
Calyx. ^ . — » 

“Han-nah — Keziah — Spin-ner,” came as from an immense dis- 
tance. 

“That’s the witch’s name !” said Keziah, pale and frightened. 

Roma laid her hand 'm the little seamstress’ with an encour- 
aging glance. 

“Does Mrs. Spinner want anything?” 

* ( Y^e-s. ’ ’ 

“May we know what h is?” 

“Com-mu-ni -cate — witn — her — de-scen-dent — ’ 5 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


125 


“How can she communicate? by what means?” 

“Pen — pa-per.” 

“Pen and paper were brought and laid on the table before the 
sleeping woman but she sat stone still. After a moment’s con- 
sideration Calyx placed the pen in the woman’s hand and the pa- 
per under it, almost immedialely the hand began to move with a 
strange, spasmodic motion over the paper yet not touching it; af- 
ter a time it settled down and wrote in large, crabbed characters 
as follows : 

There be a Spirit Force that moveth on 
Without surcease, and ever on — and up, 

And ever toward the great White Truth — the Truth 
Which is the moral Sun of man, which lights 
Ye path Humanity must tread. And there 
Be spirits of a lower kind that do 
Forever strive to bar ye way to Truth — 

To cast dark shadows twixt Truth’s rays and souls 
That yet inhabit tenements of clay. 

Fear not, for truth immortal is, and strong, 

And steadfast, and unswerving as the poles 
Whereon doth swing the Universe itself. 

For Truth hath but one aspect and one heart, 

Grand, white, true, beautiful and absolute. 

While Wrong, for every day in every year 
Throughout the rolling centuries, Wrong hath 
A changing face ; in color, shape, designs, 

Desires, expressions and professions, all, 

Is Wrong unstable and enshifting as 

The sands along a sea-beat shore. Each ort 

And atom of Wrong’s body is composed 

Of Falsity, therefore is Wrong a thing 

Of Time, wrought on, changed and decayed by Time. 

Each day do parts and portions of Wrong’s body 
Rot and fall away — Truth is immortal 
No atom of the Truth can ever die, 

Wrong dailv dies. 

And thou, 0 ! witch-descended youth, arise ! 

Gird up thy loins to battle for the Truth. 

Each man must do his portion to slay Wrong, 

And thou hast many portions for thy part. 

HANNAH KEZIAH SPINNER. 

Calyx looked at Wilmer questioningly, curious to know what, 
if any, impression this made on that materialistic young man. 

“Will it shake his materialism? Will it have a feather’s 
weight in proving the existence of spirit life?” were the ques- 
tions Calyx wanted Wilmer to answer, but which he did not an- 
swer. 

Charlmonte believed in the genuineness of the exhibition, be- 
lieved the communication to be what it pretended, and to come, 
as it claimed, from Calyx’s ancestress, but he looked upon the 
whole proceeding as wrong and dangerous. The two girls were 
simply astonished. 

“Can you account for it, Wilmer,” asked Calyx, “on any other 
othesis than tha o spirit life ? It is imp ossible that this wo- 


126 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


man could have known anything of our witch ancestress. Does 
it shake your materialism ?” 

“Not in the least. If it shakes yours, I am astonished.” 

“But how can you account, how explain?” 

“I do not try to explain. I see around me a thousand phe- 
nomena I cannot explain. We cannot understand the myster- 
ies of Nature, we can only observe a few of its laws. The growth 
of a tree from an acorn is a phenomenon at which we have ceased 
to wonder, because we have so often seen it. So of a thousand 
other things as wonderful as this.” 

“But if you see so many wonderful things,” said Roma, “how 
can you reject the belief in the immortality of the soul because it 
is wonderful?” 

“I do not reject it because it is wonderful, but because it does 
not appear to me to harmonize with one law of Nature that 
seems universal, viz: the law of change.” 

“How?” 

“We see that nothing stands still, there is a force in Nature 
which silently makes changes in every part and . atom of the Uni- 
verse with which we are acquainted. A tree grows up from an 
acorn; a daily, hourly, minutely change is going on. Growth is 
change; when its growth is completed, does it stand still ? No; it 
instantly begins to deca}^. Slowly, but surely, the forces are at 
work, changing the great, strong, green tree into something else. 
So it is with all animal bodies, with stocks and stones, earth, 
air, and water. Now, in the face of this general law, it would 
require very strong evidence to convince me that man’s spirit 
will live eternally.” 

“You say growth is change — perhaps our spirits will forever 
grow . ’ J 

“But the general law goes to show that nothing can forever 
grow, everything reaches its height, ceases to grow, and begins 
to decompose.” 

“Has your ancestress,” asked Roma, “ever pointed out to 
you any particular part of Wrong which you are destined to war 
against?” 

“Drink.” 

“Drink? — that suits your natural bent?” 

“She tells me she has influenced me in that direction, has been 
impressing me from childhood. She advises me to go on a lec- 
ture tour throughout the country.” 

“And you accept the advice?” 

“I intend to go.” 

“What subject will you treat of ?” 

“Drunkenness, its cause and cure. Mesmerism and its utility. 
Keziah and my subject will accompany me. I hope to earn 
money enough to complete my medical studies.” 

“And the child?” 

“Will be confided to the care of a woman who feels herself able 
to manage it.” 


127 


BLACK AND WHITE. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 

Mrs. Singleton was indefatigable in her love-making for her 
brother. The wooing was clone by books and flowers and pretty 
notes. The girl was not suffered to forget, Singleton was kept 
constantly in her thoughts one way or another. The young gen- 
tleman had not the privilege of calling at the Institute, but he 
knew which church the Island girls attended; spurred up by 
his sister, he was often on hand to cast on her glances of homage, 
to walk by her side to the Institute door. Charlmonte always 
walked by Miss Ashford’s side. Wilmer also attended church, 
he, who considered sermons the most intolerable bore; he also 
watched, but furtively, and more than once had the courage to 
push himself ahead of his rival and walk home with the heiress, 
which, however, did not prevent Singleton from walking on the 
other side. The two men had come to hate each other with a 
deep, if unspoken hatred. There were times when Wilmer al- 
most gnashed his teeth with rage, and when Singleton would 
turn on his heel with irritable dislike. 

“Why does the great boor annoy me with his presence?” the 
handsome Arthur would ask of his sister. 

“That such a girl should tall a prey to a fortune hunter,” said 
Wilmer, “is a sin and a shame.” 

He began to feel resentful and irritable toward Charlmonte be- 
cause he was so blinded by his own absorbing passion he could 
not see the danger his cousiii was in. Whenever he saw Single- 
ion with Roma he sank into silent gloom. Over and over he 
would resolve never to go about them again, never to visit Mrs. 
Singleton’s when he knew the girl and her wooer would be there, 
but he could not remain away, or, if he forced himself to stay, 
imagination tortured him with pictures of what might be going 
on. In vain did he take himself to task for feeling a mean jeal- 
ousy; in vain did he assure himself that the girl was nothing to 
him, and neyer could be anything. Of what force is reason against 
the most- irresistable feeling of the human heart? He might 
tell himself every hour in the day that she was nothing to him, 
and never could be ; there was a something within him that 
knew she was all the world, all the universe to him ; she dwelt 
in his thoughts by day and in his dreams by night. The very 
effort that he made to hide and subdue the passion that possessed 
him made it the deeper and more powerful. The worst of it was 
that his judgment, his reason, if left to themselves helped on the 
passion ; his judgment told him that she was the one woman 
whom he would have chosen from the universe, the one woman 
he would have created for himself, had the power been his to 
create. There were times when he tried to persuade himself 
that the dislike he felt toward Singleton was the result of a mean 
jealousy, and not because of any unworthy quality in the man 
himself. 


128 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


“He is handsome, elegant, easy in manners, a natural lady’s 
man,” he would say, “and I, because I lack all that, because I 
am a great hulk o‘f a fellow, and please no woman’s eye, hate 
him.” 

But all this had no effect. The feeling that Singleton was un- 
worthy of the girl was ineradicable. 

Charlmonte was not blind to the change that came over his 
friend. Once, as they were returning home, after having taken the 
girls to the Institute, a deeper and darker distraction than usual 
fell upon Wilmer. He had observed, or thought that he ob- 
served, a more significant devotion on the part of Singleton, and 
a more tell-tale pleasure in its reception on the part of the girl. 
Charlmonte spoke several times and got no answer ; he wanted 
an explanation. 

“What has come over you, Wilmer?” he said, after they were 
in their own room and the light of the lamp showed the set, 
stern face of his friend. “I am bound to know, old fellow,” he 
continued, seeing that Wilmer threw himself in a chair and 
made no reply. “If you’ve got yourself in any scrape, let a fel- 
low know, so he can help you out. Make a clean breast of it — 
what has happened?” 

“Nothing- — nothing in the world ; what do you mean ?” 

Seizing his violin he sent forth the dismalest wails. 

“Something has happened — at least, something haswoefully 
changed you You are not the same fellow you were a few months 
ago. What has done this? What troubles you?” 

“Nothing. On the contrary, I am extremely pleased at the 
prospect of employment as soon as I leave the city, and I’m ex- 
tremely grateful to your father for giving me the place.” 

Charlmonte’s father had written to his son that the Island 
physician intended to give up practice. Charlmonteimmediate- 
ly applied for the place and received it for his friend. 

“You see, old fellow,” said Wilmer cheerfully, “it’s a great 
thing for a fellow to get to work at once. My father’s the best 
man on earth, but he’s had to strain his purse to educate me. 
He has a large family, I’m the oldest bov, and nothing would 
better suit me than to relieve my father of my expense as soon 
as possible.” 

“I hope you will like the Island,” said Charlmonte. 

“Of course I shall like it.” 

After that the fiddle gave out lively sounds for a while, and 
Wilmer was his old self again but, Charlmonte observed that it 
was an effort, and that he soon flagged and lell into a dark train 
of thought, the fiddle lay silent in his lap, his eyes bent on the 
floor. 

Charlmonte got up and shook him by the shoulders. 

“I must — I will know what it is! What have you done? 
Murder? Out with it ’ I’ll help you hide or run away — make 
a clean breast of it ! What dire misdeed have you done, or do 
you intend doing?” 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


129 


A forced smile was all the protest. Wilmer felt that his face 
had betrayed him. 

“I have it,” continued Charlmonte, treating the subject as 
a jest. “The melancholy Mopson has proposed to you, and you 
have not the courage to say ‘no’ — She hasn’t? Well, then the 
widow Tubinger has flung her heavy purse and her heavier per- 
son at you, and you are in for it, and now want to blow your 
brains out — eh?” 

“Not quite so bad as that,” said Wilmer. “I must have 
looked as tortured as the old saint stretched on a gridiron — no, 
flayed alive, I think he was.” 

“I never heard he was a saint.” 

“I was thinking of Singleton.” 

“Singleton? Why do you think so much of him? That’s 
precisely the answer you made me last week. What’s the mat- 
ter with Singleton ?” 

“I do not like his face,” replied Wilmer, not knowing exactly 
what else to say. 

“That’s precisely what you said of him before ; if you don’t 
like him, why think of him so much ? I think he’s a good-look- 
ing fellow — very gentlemanly in his manners.” 

“A man may be a scoundrel and have pleasing manners.” 

“Certainly; but is there any reason for thinking Singleton a 
scoundrel ?” 

“I have been studying Spurzheim lately; he doesn’t think 
so well of those narrow heads, with eyes set close together. 
Breadth of forehead indicates a nobler nature.” 

“Oh!” cried Charlmonte, who had not the slightest faith in 
the new science of phrenology, “when you come to damn a man 
scientifically, I have nothing to say. I leave the whole field to 
you. I think it very lucky that you are not the autocrat of the 
country ; if you were, you would be ordering fellows’ heads cut 
•off* because they didn’t suit your theories. You’d catch men and 
kill them to keep them from killing somebody else.” 

“You may laugh, Charlmonte, but I do not think it a laughing 
matter to see such a fellow as Singleton trying to win such a girl 
as Roma; if she were my cousin, I would put her on her guard.” 

“Put Roma on her guard!” repeated Charlmonte, all at once 
thoroughly alive to the subject. What on earth do you mean 
Wilmer?” 

“Exactly what I say. If Roma were my cousin, I would not 
be willing to see her marry such a man as Singleton.” 

“Willing ! Why, no one would be willing. But why think 
of such a thing? Surely there can be no reason for alarm.” 

“If you had not been so deep in the mire yourself, old fellow,” 
said Wilmer, “you might have seen that others are in danger of 
falling in.” 

“What have you seen?” asked Charlmonte, a sharp anxiety 
in his tone and eyes. 

“What have I seen? What any one not blind as a bat could 


130 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


have seen months ago, tl 1 at a very handsome, experienced, and 
worldly man, is laying himself out to fascinate an inexperienced 
and wealthy girl. If he’s not the sort of a man for your cousin’s 
husband, think of the danger.” 

Charlmonte was aroused. He glanced back over the past 
months, and it seemed to him that he had lived in a dream — a. 
delightful dream, but if he had suffered his cousin to drift into 
danger, he had not done his duty. 

“Under no circumstances would Singleton suit as Roma’s 
husband. Her proud father would never consent — he has a prej- 
udice in favor of the people of his own State. No Northern man 
would suit her relatives — ” 

“Suit her relatives !” repeated Wilmer in an irritated tone. 
“'The worst of it is, this particular man will not suit Roma her- 
self.” 

“Oh! then, why alarm ourselves about the matter, if he does 
not please her ? ( ” 

“Do you not understand, Charlmonte, that a girl may be 
pleased and not suited ? She is young, what will please her now 
will not suit her at twenty-five. She has a superior mind, and 
will make a superior woman. If she marries an unworthy man 
her life will be ruined.” 

Charlmonte avowed his intention of speaking to Roma, and 
also of discontinuing the visits to Mrs. Singleton, at least, they 
should be less frequent. 

Wilmer went to bed with a hope in his heart, still he told 
himself, she was no more to him than any other girl — that she 
never could be any more, the great fortune she would inherit 
made a wall, or a gulf between them. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE ISLAND GIRL'S ARE CALLED HOME. — MRS. SINGLETON IS DISAP- 
POINTED, AND MISS MOPSON FEELS THAT SHE IS PERSECUTED. 

Charlmonte did not speak to Roma about the Singleton affair, 
the need for so doing seemed to have passed, for the young girls 
were called home by a letter brought by Carson, who had been 
in the city three days, but failed to present himself until after he 
had indulged in that little quiet, private “drunk,” to which he 
thought he was fairly entitled after so long an abstinence. The 
letter was from Roma’s mother, as follows : 

My Dear Boy Roma must come home as quickly as possible, her 
grandfather is very ill and pines to see her. It goes to my heart to see 
his anxious eyes and his anxious face that he may not live to see Roma. 
Can you come with the girls? Constance also must return, her mother 
is not willing for her to remain if Roma comes. We send this letter by 
Carson, who has been on the Island for some months, doing jobs, repair- 
ing gins, etc. Should^it happen, dear boy, that you cannot bring the girls 
home, put them under the Captain’s care, on a good vessel ; Carson will 
look after the baggage, but we all hope you may be able to come, as we 
will feel better satisfied to have you with the girls. Father is awake and 
wants me. Your affectionate aunt, 

Caroline C h a rlmoxte. 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


131 


Chari monte gave the letter to Wilmer to read. 

“You will go yourself?” asked Wilmer. 

“Certainly. I will not trust them on a vessel by themselves. 
We will take the first good boat. Do you go back with us, Mr. 
Carson?” 

Carson said he had some relatives he would like to visit, but 
if he was wanted he would go at once. 

“No, no — there is no need for you to hurry yourself, ”said the 
young man, casting a critical look on Carson, and not particular- 
ly desiring his company home, “by all means, Mr. Carson, take 
time, and visit your friends. 

Thus it happened, that when Mrs. Singleton dispatched her 
carriage on Friday evening, to bring the young ladies to take tea, 
she was doomed to disappointment. She had urged her brother 
to bring his wooing to a crisis, and to seize the present opportu- 
nity for that purpose. Singleton had agreed to decide the busi- 
ness and secure the heiress as soon as possible. 

“Give our best regards to your kind aunt,” Roma said to Miss 
Mopson, as that young lady desi^d to know if they were going 
with her, “and tell her we regret that we will not have time to 
bid her good bye, and thank her for her kind attentions to us. 
As soon as Grandpapa is better we will write to her.” 

Miss Mopson put out her little limp fingers to be shaken, and 
said she hoped the young ladies would ’have a pleasant trip, and 
she hoped they would find their Grandpapa much better, after 
which she glided softly away, and down the stairs, out to the 
carriage, on which sat the imposing Puffington, waiting to carry 
her to her stately aunt’s. Miss Mopson had not forgotten a for- 
mer occasion when the Island girls had not accompanied her, and 
she had taken Miss Smidge, she had not forgotten the angry dis- 
appointment of her aunt, and how she, Miss M., had been sharp- 
ly reproved, and now, away down in the little heart of Miss 
Mopson there stirred a solemn and secret satisfaction at the 
prospect of another disappointment, and another fit of anger 
which would vent itself on the head of Miss Mopson. Miss 
Mopson took a sweet and solemn satisfaction in the idea that 
after her aunt had vented her anger upon her, she would feel 
some contrition on learning the fact that she was not to blame 
for the absence of the Southern girls. Full of these amiable im- 
aginings, Miss Mopson glided up stairs to her aunt’s room, and 
kissed her with a solemn air, affecting not to see the questioning 
look in her aunt’s eyes. 

“Are you alone, Melissa?” she asked, with rising asperity. 

“Yes, Aun^ all alone,” replied the young lady, with sad 
sweetness, arranging the cushions of the sofa on which she had 
dropped her little person. 

The aunt looked darkly at her. 

“Why are you alone ?” 

“They wouldn’t come,” replied Miss Melissa, with innocent 
indifference, giving the cushion a punch to bulge it up. 


132 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


“Why would they not come?” persisted the aunt with sharp- 
er asperity. 

“Said they were too busy,” carelessly replied Miss Melissa, 
although she was perfectly conscious of the frigid look of sever- 
ity fixed upon her. 

“Too busy? — What do you mean ?” was the angry rejoinder. 

“They’re not coming any more,” replied Miss Melissa, inno- 
cently nestling her little head among the sofa cushions. 

Mrs. Singleton grew white, a cold horror seemed to creep over 
her. Should the scheme she had so long and carefully toiled for 
fall in pieces like a card-house ? 

“Not — coming — any — more !” she repeated hoarsely, a dead- 
ly palor overspreading her face.* 

The girl affected not to see, drew her feet up to a more com- 
fortable position, and nestled her head among the cushions in a 
way peculiarly exasperating to the aunt, who felt such keen anx- 
iety she could no longer control her temper. 

“You perverse, ill-conditioned ^girl !’’ she cried in a hoarse 
voice. “What mischief have j*>u been at ? What did you say — 
what do, to keep them from coming?” 

The amiable Miss Melissa had gained her point, she had work- 
ed her aunt up to a rage, and now felt that she had good cause to 
consider herself abused for nothing. It was not her fault that 
the odious girls did not* come. She immediately burst into 
tears. 

“Don’t make a fool of yourself, Melissa,” said her aunt se- 
verely. “Can you explain what you did without blubbering?” 

“Blubbering !” What a word to be applied to the young lady 
destined to experience a grand, romantic passion ! Miss Mop- 
son felt injured in her tenderest sensibilities. She wept copious- 
ly. She hid her little, round face in her little lace handkerchief, 
and sniffled and snuffled as though her little heart would break. 

“Can’t you stop long enongh to tell me what you did to offend 
those girls? You must have done something; when they left 
last Friday they were perfectly amiable.” 

“It — it — it ain’t my fault !” sobbed the young lady from behind 
her lace handkerchief. She was in full and perfect enjoyment 
of the persecution she had anticipated. 

“Whose fault is it, then?” 

“As — as — as — as if I — I could keep them from going — going 
home !” 

“What do you mean ? — home ?” 

“As — as — as if I could keep her old — old grandfather from 
having a — a — a — fit and — and — and sending for — for them to go — 
go home !” 

Mrs. Singleton felt for a moment as if she were turning to stone. 
She sat and gazed at the girl a statue of horror. All her labor 
thrown away ! Her brother a pauper, and no prospect of doing 
anything. She went to Melissa and gave her a fierce shaking, 
which finally made her relate what had occurred. 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


133 


The girls were busy packing up their things, she managed to 
say, and were to leave on the “City of Norfolk” next day, at 
ten o’clock, a. m. 

“When did they get the news?” asked the aunt, subdued by 
the certainty of losing the game she had so long played for. 

“Thurs — Thursday morning,” sobbed the persecuted Miss 
Mopson. 

“And you never let me know ! You should have come at once 
and told me. All’s lost ! all’s lost !” she cried, pacing the floor 
with a white, troubled face. 

“How — how — should I — I know you — you wanted to know ?’ 7 
sobbed the girl. 

This was so just a reproof that the aunt could not but be sen- 
sible of her error. She had never taken her niece into her confi- 
dence, and that not very astute young lady had never a suspicion 
of her aunt’s plans with regard to the heiress and her orother. 

“I can’t see — what — what you see in those stuck-up Island 
girls to — to like — so — so much better than — than your own kin !” 
blurted out the niece with a fresh burst of tears, all the pent-up 
little jealousies of her little heart finding vent in tears, sobs, and 
words. 

“You talk like a simpleton, Melissa,” said her aunt in a kind- 
er tone. “You do not understand. Go up stairs and bathe your 
eyes — you do not wish to look like a fright, do you? Mrs. Tu- 
binger and her nephew will be here presently — make yourself 
presentable.” 

The nephew of Mrs. Tubinger was Miss Mopson’s Lord Morti- 
mer, all her little soul fell down and worshipped that talented 
young man, and the talented young man found great pleasure in 
being worshipped, especially by a young lady with a few thou- 
sand dollars in the bank, that would be of great assistance to the 
aspiring young man, and would help him put his foot on anoth- 
er rung of the ladder leading up to fame and fortune. 

Many delicate little tokens of attachment had the young law- 
yer given to the little, fluttering heart of Miss Mopson, so that 
now there was a satisfactory understanding between them that, 
as soon as she graduated from the Finisher Institute, he was to 
propose in form for the hand of the lovely Melissa. 

The observant aunt was well pleased at the arrangement, it 
had been an object with her to get the girl off her hands as soon 
as possible. 

“Sharpe will make a living for her,” she said, “and that is all 
Melissa has any right to expect. She never inherited any of the 
Singleton beauty or style.” 

As soon as niece was gone up stairs to cover the traces of 
tears with her pearl powder, Mrs. Singleton dispatched a servant 
in all haste for her brother. That gentleman came, smiling and 
good-humored, for it happened that he had a prospect of negotiat- 
ing a loan from old McFlint, of a few thousand dollars, and he 
felt quite confident that, once in possession of the cash, he could 


134 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


retrieve his losses, and set himself up again. Such is the peren- 
nial hope of the gambler’s heart. 

“The bird is flown, or about to fly,” she said, anxiety and re- 
proof in her aspect. “You have made such poor use of your op- 
portunities— I fear your chance is gone.” 

“What’s up ?” asked Arthur in a careless way. 

His sister explained the situation. 

“Had you pursued this girl with earnestness, Arthur,” she 
said in conclusion, “you would soon be one of the richest men in 
the country. Her grandfather is at the point of death.” 

Mr. Arthur said he had done his best to make himself agree- 
able, but she was such a slow girl, he couldn’t get on with her 
as he could with other women. She was so confoundedly pru- 
dish, a fellow was always afraid he’d everlastingly offend. She 
was always mounted on a high horse, so awfully moral and 
goody-good. 

“Why not take Mrs. Tubinger?” 

“Hang the Tubinger ! She’d be the death of me in a week, 
with her loud voice and large hands, and her nephew is a con- 
ceited bore. If I get that lift from old McFlint — hang the wo- 
men ! I don’t want a wife anyway. What’s the use of a feh 
low’s putting a yoke on his neck?” 

As usual, the sister set herself to work to move him in the way 
he should go, and ended by sending him off at once to the Fin- 
isher Institute to seek an interview, during which he was to plead 
his cause, and procure an engagement. Once engaged, his sister 
thought that his course would be easy, engagements give many 
privileges which would enable a man to obtain complete control 
over a girl. So, half an hour later, the handsome Arthur pre- 
sented himself at the Institute door and handed Kitty a note for 
Miss Charlmonte. The note had been indited by his sister; she 
posted him on all points. Not that Mr. Arthur was unfamiliar 
with all the arts of wooing women, but his sister had so persist- 
ently drilled into his mind that this one woman was not to be 
won by his usual manner, that he yielded to her judgment and 
made an effort to follow her directions, which were to maintain 
great dignity, take a deep interest in moral and social questions, 
and make love by few words and many ardent looks, and never 
to attempt liberties. “She won’t like freedoms,” his sister said, 
“she wants immense respect above all things, a passionate love 
next.” 

“I have just learned from my niece that you will leave the city to- 
morrow. May I not see you before you go ? I must— do not refuse ! I 
await your answer. . Arthur Singleton. 

The two girls read the little missive, the heart of the one beat 
with a quicker action, the heart of the other sunk. 

“He does not wish to see me,” said Miss Constance, almost 
tearfully. “What right has that man to see you alone? — 0 ! 
Roma!” 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


135 


‘‘What shall I tell him, Miss?” inquired the waiting Kitty. 

“Tell him I will be down in a few minutes.” 

Then she went to the mirror and began to brush her hair, af- 
ter which she put a knot of scarlet ribbon at her throat, and 
turned and looked at her cousin’s sorrowful face. 

“What is it, Conny dear?” she asked, looking tenderly on the 
wistful eyes. 

“As if you don’t always look well enough to see that old man!” 
said Miss Conny, as spitefully as she could, referring to the little 
adornment Miss Charlmonte thought it necessary to make before 
seeing her lover. 

“Why, Conny dear,” replied Roma, “you look as if there 
were a beast — a real, four-footed beast, down in the parlor, and I 
were going down to be devoured.” 

“Kiss me before you go,” pleaded Miss Constance, tearfully 
pressing up to her cousin’s breast. 

The kiss was given, but the beauty was reluctant to release 
her cousin, she clung to her. 

“Roma dear,” she said in a whisper, “don’t ! — don't ! — don't!" 

“Don’t what? You little, lovely goose! What do you sup- 
pose I am going to do so dreadful?” 

“It won’t do, Roma dear — I feel it won’t do — I know it won’t 
do!” 

The tone was so entreating, so tender, so earnest, the face so 
anxious, Miss Roma could no longer treat the matter as a jest. 
She seemed to reflect a moment, and then came to a resolution. 

“I promise you one thing, Conny dear,” she said brightly, 
“you may rely on this, no matter what he has come to say, I will 
return to you as free, as untrammeled, as I go away. Will that 
satisfy you, little Cousin?” 

It was owing to this promise that Singleton was defeated in 
his ardent and persistent pleading for an engagement. The ut- 
termost he could gain was the privilege of corresponding with 
her. She would not confess or deny a preference for him. To 
all his entreaties she replied that she could not, while her grand- 
father was so sick, think of anything else. And so they parted. 

Singleton’s sister considered the promise of a correspondence 
almost as good as an engagement. 

“You can more effectually make love to a woman on paper 
than by words,” she said. “You give the woman a chance to 
idealize you. Women like Roma never fall in love with the real 
man; they take the real man and throw over him the glamor of 
their own imagination, and fall in love with the creature of their 
own creating, and call it by the man’s name.” 


. CHAPTER XIX. 

ASHFORD ISLE 

Lay off the coast of South Carolina. It was owned chiefly by 
four planters. Roma’s grandfather, Henry Ashford, now an old 


136 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


man past seventy, his brother, Richard Ashford, a much younger 
man, the father of Constance, Edward Charlmonte, the father of 
the young student of the same name, and an old gentleman by 
the name of James Widgerly, were the principal owners of the 
Island. At one time Henry Ashford was master of the entire 
Island ; he had divided it into four portions and sold to the pres- 
ent owners. Art and Nature had made Ashford Isle a paradise 
on earth; the soil was rich, the climate soft and salubrious, the 
fervid heat of the tropical sun was tempered by the cool breezes 
from the sea, the vegetation was rich and luxuriant, not only was 
the cotton grown the finest in the world but the tropical fruits 
were of the best, orange groves and vineyards were unrivaled, 
the trees and flowers were unequaled for beauty and splendor, 
water oaks and magnolias, myrtle and pomegranites beautified the 
scene, birds of brilliant plumage were numerous. What is more 
lovely than a flock of humming birds, those bright little things 
gendered in the glowing hearts of the flowers by the burning, 
beams of the sun? At the extreme northern end of the Isle was 
a small village called Ashville originally settled by a few fisher- 
men. The village had grown to be quite a trading place, its in- 
habitants were mostly market gardeners, fishermen and their 
families. There was a school house, two churches, a dry-goods^ 
shop, a grocery and an 

EMPORIUM OF FASHION. 

This last was a place of great and growing importance in the 
estimation of the African inhabitants of the Island. The Afri- 
cans outnumbered the Caucasians ; the blacks numbered nearly 
a thousand, the whites only a few hundred. The presiding ge- 
nius of the Emporium of Fashion was a maiden lady of sallow 
complexion and thin body, Miss Dorcas Hightower by name, 
contracted by the negroes to Miss Dawkshiter. 

In the opinion of the negro population Miss Dawkshiter was 
the very genius of good taste. The wonderful combinations of 
colors gotten up by Miss Dawkshiter to please and fascinate 
African matrons and maids, the wonderful mixing of red and yel- 
low and green and purple, the gorgeous bows of ribbon that 
glowed on the tops and bottoms and sides of Sunday bonriets, the 
brilliant boquets of artificial flowers that brightly bloomed 
from the tufts of woolly hair and the sides of high turbans, were 
a sight to see on a Sunday morning, as the dusky worshipers 
wended their way to church or babtising, as the case might be. 
Babtising by the seaside was the favorite free show of the. Island, 
to which the negroes crowded in droves, all and each lifting up 
their voices and singing at the highest pitch. The little village 
was as picturesque as possible; the houses were not fine or fresh- 
ly painted but vines and flowers were so abundant they could not 
fail to beautify ; the streets were wide, straight and shaded by 
three rows of live oak trees, a row on either side and a row in the 
middle. It was on this Island that the two girls, Roma and Con- 
stance, had grown up, almost as free and untrammeled as the 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


137 


l)ircls. They had been accustomed to riding unattended from one 
end of the Island to the other, consequently were fearless horse- 
women, they could handle an oar and swim with the best. Be- 
tween Roma and her grandfather existed the most devoted affec- 
tion, they suited each other as seldom the old and the young suit, 
-she looked upon him as a grand old man, he looked upon her as 
the brightest of her sex. His own daughter he loved, but not 
with that utter devotion he gave his grandchild. His daughter 
had fewer strong points and the old man admired strength of 
character. 

He lay sick in his room, in the full belief that his time was come 
to bid farewell to earthly scenes. The only thought that troubled 
his mind was the fear that he should not see his granddaughter 
before he left. 

“ Has the “City of Norfolk” come yet?” inquired the old man, 
his anxious eyes peering out from his haggard face. 

“Not yet, father, not yet, we look for it every hour now,” re- 
turned his daughter, soothingly. She smoothed his pillow, gave 
him his drops and sat in silence by his side. He dozed or seem- 
ed to doze for some moments, suddenly he raised his head, his 
old eyes peering out with something of their old fire, a faint 
noise, a rustle was heard coming from the hall. 

“What is it, Caroline?” he asked, “see if it is Roma ; go and 
-see ; they will not let her in — bring her to me ; go at once.” 

His daughter softly stole into the hall and was clasped in her 
daughter’s arms. 

“Oh! Mama! Mama! may I see him now? may I see him 
Tight now V ’ 

“Roma! Roma! Roma!” called out the old, beloved voice, 
with all its old, imperative power. 

The girl flew to the sound, she threw her slender arms about 
~the neck of the stricken giant, she kissed the gray locks that lay 
spread on the pillow, she kissed his sunken eyes, his forehead, 
his wasted hands, then she broke into a rain of tears at the woful 
change that had taken place. She had left him so strong, so 
stalwart, so full of life and plans and purposes, now how fallen, 
how cut down! 

“My darling — my darling — my darling,” he murmured, his 
trembling fingers tenderly wandering over her young head. 

The next day it transpired why he had been so feverishly anx- 
ious to see his granddaughter once more before he departed to his 
long home, it was not only because of his devoted fondness, 
but he wished to talk over his affairs and give the girl advice and 
instructions. He wished to explain to her why he had left to her 
the legal title to all his possessions instead of to the girl’s 
mother, his patural heir. He confided to Roma the disgraceful 
family secret, the skeleton in the Ashcourt closet, the second 
marriage of her mother to a worthless black-leg, who, if his wife 
inherited property, would be sure to harass her to death and 
sjpend all she possessed. “The laws of the country,” said the 


138 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


old man, “give a husband everything that is the wife’s / 5 To 
evade the law he bequeathed everything to Roma with instruc- 
tions to consider half as really her mother’s and, should her 
mother be freed by death from her husband, Roma was to invest 
her mother with the legal right to half of the Ashford estate. 
Somewhat relieved by this interview with his grandchild the old 
man seemed to rally, his friends begun to hope he would once 
more he up and about. His brother Richard was entrusted with 
the key to the desk containing his will, which he was to read at 
the proper time. 


CHAPTER XX. 

THE SINGLETONS. ' 

Miss Melissa quite often had red eyes, so red that pearl powder 
failed to conceal the fact. Mrs. Tubinger and her nephew did not 
fail to comment thereon. 

“Poor thing !” said the former, “I really believe, Blacky, that 
aunt of hers must bully her dreadfully ; what else can she cry so 
much about ?” 

The two were going home, after an evening spent with Mrs. 
Singleton. 

Mr. Sharpe gave a little, affected cough and expressed the hope 
that there was nothing serious to complain of, he rather thought, 
he had understood that sort of thing was rather peculiar to the — 
the female mind ; that is a — a sort of melancholy often melting 
into tears. 

“Tears and female fiddle-sticks!.” said the cheerful widow, 
with frank scorn as she broke from her side of the street to the 
other, “Don’t make a big, grey goose of yourself, Blacky why in 
the name of common sense, should the female mind be any more 
given to blubbering and snuffling than the male mind? Haven’t 
I a female mind ? do I go about sniffling and snuffling over the 
house ? do I turn up my eyes and look like a dying calf when I 
sing?” 

The young man admitted promptly that his respected aunt did 
none of these things, also in his secret heart he did not admit that 
his lady love rolled up her eyes Tike a dying calf, on the contrary 
he admired the way Miss Melissa turned her eyes heaven- 
ward, he thought that sort of thing very proper and pretty for fe- 
male eyes. But of this he said nothing, his aunt was rich and 
there was no immediate prospect of husband or children to heir 
her estate, so her nephews and nieces were very attentive and re- 
spectful. 

“Then don’t talk nonsense, Blacky,” returned his aunt, “and 
you may depend that poor girl’s bullied to an inch of her life. 
Oh ! she’s a high one, Blacky, for all she’s so sweet and gracious 
in company, she’s a high one I know.” 

“Who’s a high one?” asked her nephew, with a sudden mis- 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


139 


giving that his Melissa was the one referred to as being high. 
Mr. Sharpe was on principle opposed to “high” females, if by 
•high was meant willfulness, determination, etc. 

“Why the aunt, to be sure ; you don’t suppose I meant the 
girl, Blacky, do you ? she’s a regular poke, M’liss is.” 

“A poke ? what’s that, aunt?” asks the young lawyer. 

“A poke— why a poke — now, Blacky, you know you know 
what a poke is,” retorted his aunt, who was not very ready at 
giving definitions. 

“No, I assure you, aunt — not at all ; it’s not a law term or I’d 
know it of course. I know what it means when it has reference 
to a fire or a fellow’s ribs but how a lovely young female can be 
called a poke.” 

“Good gracious me Blacky !” cried his aunt, making another 
independent dash across the street for no reason that any mortal 
could divine. Mrs. Tubinger had the habit, every now and then, 
of crossing from one side of the street to the other; of course she 
was dutifulty followed by her nephew. 

“Good gracious me Blacky ! any goose in the world knows 
what poke is.” 

“I vow I’m not a goose,” modestly rejoins her nephew, 
“though I may be a gander, ha ! aunt.” 

“A poke — why a poke is a sort of a poky thing that hasn’t 
spunk to say boo ! to a goose,” said his aunt, after which bril- 
liant definition the young man became very cheerful and cheer- 
fully exclaimed: “Indeed! oh! that’s it; ha!” in his secret 
soul he admired that quality in the female mind that was “too 
poky to say boo ! to a goose.” 

“What do the copy books say, aunt? ‘Meekness is a quality 
that highly adorneth a woman’ ha!” 

“It was ‘modesty’ in my copy book,”retorted the aunt, mak- 
ing another dash over the street. 

“Meekness and modesty — all the same ; ha ! I should say,” 
cried the young lawyer, following 4 at her heels and thanking his 
stars that she would not be able to make more than two more 
crossings before they reached home. Nor did Mr. Sharpe think 
it necessary to confide to his aunt that he decidedly admired 
“poky” young women and that he especially admired the poki- 
ness of Miss Mopson. The vision of her upturned eyes, as she 
warbled sweet words and tinkled the guitar, the broad blue rib- 
bon around her neck, rose before his eyes and he took a secret 
satisfaction in the thought that such upturnings and warblings 
and tinklings were fitting and appropriate to the true female 
mind. 

Roma had been at home about a week when Mrs. Singleton 
thought it time that her brother should despatch her a letter. 
Mr. Arthur was in high good humor, he had negotiated the loan 
and got the money from old McFlint, principally on the idea that 
he was to wed the Island heiress. McFlint had had business 
transactions in the South and knew Roma’s grandfather and felt 


140 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


safe in lending money to the man who was to wed his grand- 
daughter. Mr. Arthur had used the few thousands so well at 
cards, he had won a tew thousand with which he paid half of the 
money borrowed from his sister and yet retained in his pocket 
the original sum obtained from old McFlint. This state ^f affairs 
put Mr. Arthur in a very cheeerful, not to say exhilerated, state 
of mind. He felt quite sure that at last he had the secret of suc- 
cess and would go on winning. “ Writing,” he yawned, good na- 
turedly, “is such an infernal bore, Cathy, I wish you’d do it for 
me — you know what’ll please that stiff-starched girl better than 
I.” 

“ Write yourself, Arthur, you can write very good love letters 
and make love too, very effectually, if all tales are true.” 

“What tales ?” 

“Oh ! you need not think you’re hid in a bushel. Mrs. Man- 
tor Merriman thinks you a very dangerous Lothario?” 

“What the deuce does she know of me ? I havn’t seen her these 
fourteen years .” * 

The handsome Arthur’s face wore that gratified smile most 
men exhibit when accused of being generally dangerous to the 
other sex. A particular charge has a very different effect. 

“That may be, but she hears all the same.” 

“Well, what does she hear ?” 

“She says you were at the bottom of the Blaine girl’s ruin.” 

The gratified smile gave way to an angry frown. 

“Mrs. Mantor Merriman is a disagreeable old gossip and I’d 
like to tell her so.” 

“Certainly she is. I told her the charge was absurd as you 
were in Europe at the time the girl disappeared, but she wouldn’t 
give way — she stands to it, you were responsible.” 

“I wish old hags would mind their own business and leave me 
alone,” growled the injured Arthur. 

“She tells it that old Mrs. Somebody told another old Mrs. 
Somebody, who told her, that the first old Mrs. Somebody was at 
that seaside place where the Blaine girl was with her invalid 
aunt, and that you flirted desperately with the girl and that 
everybody saw it, except the aunt who was shut up in her room, 
and that six months afterward the girl ran away from her home 
and has not been heard of since.” 

“It’s an infernal shame,” cried the indignant gentleman, kick- 
ing over an inoffensive chair in his path, “it’s an infernal shame 
to saddle a woman’s misdeeds on a fellow like that, and all be- 
cause he happened to dance a few times with her ; why a fel- 
low’ll have to shut himself up like a monk to keep himself out of 
scandal.” 

“Pshaw ! how does scandal damage a man ? now a woman — ” 

“It’s the very first I’ve heard that my name was connected 
with that girl’s disappearance, her family do not implicate me, 
certainly ; old Blaine was the first to welcome me back ; he in- 
vited me to a party at his house 


BLACK AND WHITE . 141 

‘*Aud you went?”- asked his sister, a curious smile on her thin 
lips. 

“Certainly ; why snould I not go? I always liked the family 
and visited them before I went to Europe ; must a fellow cut a 
whole family because one of its members went to the bad?” 

“Of course not ! What an old gossip that Merriman woman 
is.” continued his sister reflectively. “You danced a few times, 
— the way she tells it, one would suppose you and the girl were 
together all day and half the night, wandering in shadowy 
places, up to the very day the girl’s father was. expected to ar- 
rive. It seems the gossips had counted on the old man to call 
you to account, but when he arrived on the spot you had cut 
and run.” 

“Cathy,” said her brother angrily, “I am astonished that you 
should listen to such scandal — it really is too — too vulgar — I 
want no more of it.” 

“Very well, go on with your letter.” 

“I’m in no mood to write.” 

‘•I will write if you will copy it.” 

“You ought to write,” he said, with a short laugh, “it’s more 
your love affair than mine, anyway.” 

So the correspondence was arranged with this division of labor. 

Mrs. Singleton gladly undertook the composition of the letters . 
to be sent to the heiress, as she knew she could far excel her 
brother in the art of writing. 

When Roma received the first letter from her wooer, she and 
her mother were greatly encouraged as to Mr. Ashford’s con- 
dition. Roma was so constant in attendance on her grandfather 
that it was several days before she found time to reply to Single- 
ton’s ardent epistle, which she did as follows : 

* Ashcourt, May 1st, 1839. 

Mr. Arthur Singleton: 

Dear Sir: — Yours of the lOtli came a few days ago, but I could not 
find a moment earlier to reply. We think Grandfather is better now; 
Mamma and I hope to see him up again, and the life of the place, as he 
always is when well. You ask me to write to you of my friends, home, 
neighbors, and negroes. I can do this if it will interest you (Single- 
ton’s letter had ur$.ed her to do this, on the flattering plea that anything 
concerning her, or near her, would interest him), ana the task will be 
pleasant, for I love them all, friends, home, neighbors, and negroes. So 
I will take you in good faith and begin: 

First in* importance, and first in love, is Mama. You would never 
take me to be Mama’s dabghter. She is beautiful, and I — well, I’m not 
in the least like her. Mamma is as fair as a lily, and gentle as a dove, 
with soft, brown eyes, and the sweetest face, and she never, never argues 
on any subject. Grandfather has often said that I ought to be a lawyer, 

I am naturally so disputatious. Next to Mama is dear old Grandpapa. 

I wish you could have known him before he was stricken down, he was a 
grand old man, six feet tall, broad-shouldered, with a bearing like a born 
ruler. Some people fancy he has a stern face, but he never is stern to 
Mamma or me, or the servants. Sometimes though, he storms, and his 
eyes flash fire, when he is aroused on political questions. He and Uncle 
Richard have hot discussions on politics, yet they are devoted to each- 
other. Uncle Richard is a Clay man and wants protective tariffs, Grand- 


142 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


papa is a Calhoun man, and argues that protective tariffs rob the agricul- 
turalist to pay tribute to the manufacturer. His especial aver- 
sion, however, is the fish bounty. Grandpapa always wants to know 
why people of the South and West should be taxed to pay a New Englander 
for every fish he catches, any more than the New Englander should be 
taxed to pay the farmers for every bushel of corn or potatoes they raise? 
Grandpapa insists that such tariffs always stir up strife between the peo- 
ple who pay and the people who receive the tariffs. Grandpapa and 
Mama and myself are all the white persons in Ashcourt. We have an over- 
seer, but he and his family live a few miles off, at Richland. Grandpapa’s 
estate is divided in two parts, one is Ashcourt, on which we live, and the 
overseer lives on Richland. Now for the servants. Ours are all old fam- 
ily servants, and some of them we love very much, as they do us. First 
in importance is Mammy Rose, who was my nurse when I was small. 
Mammy Rose is a large woman with a very dignified air. She keeps the 
keys of the store rooms and linen closets, and manages the 
housemaids, teaching them neatness, industry, etc. Mammy Rose is not 
very black, she has a rather stern face, but is always good. Everyone 
.pays her great respect, especially younger servants. Next comes Damon 
— Oh! I wish vou could know Damon, he is the very prince of African 
dandies, very black, with a head that runs up like a sugar loaf, and a 
great pile of shining wool on the top of it, and the whitest teeth, and eyes 
so popped out they seem to have been laid on after the face was made. 
Damon is Mammy Rose’s grandson and pet, she is as proud of him as can 
be, especially of his Chesterfieldian manners-, as indeed, we all are, they 
could not be excelled by anyone, and render him conspicuous wherever 
he goes. Damon would be a nice character to put in a novel, he is so pe- 
culiar ; his duty is to wait on the table, answer the door bell, and go to 
the post office. Should you ever wish to ingratiate yourself in his good 
opinion, all you will have to do is to present him with a bottle of per- 
fume, he is as fond of perfume as was Mahomet himself He is in his 
highest glory when dressed up in his best, white apron, white gloves, and 
button-hole boquet, in waiting at some grand supper or dinner; at such 
times he is the envy and admiration of the African world, at least, that 
portion of it which happens to see him. My maid, who answers to the 
classical name of Thetis — contracted for convenience sake to Thetty— 
and Damon are a dusky pair of lovers, and, as their stream of love seems 
to run very smoothly, they think of marriage in a month or so. Our 
coachman is named Tallyrand, we call him Uncle Tally, for short. Grand- 
mother was fond of grand names, and would often induce’ the negro- 
mothers to let her name their babies ; in this way, we have at Ashcourt 
some of the most renowned names the world lias ever known. Uncle 
Tally is an immense favorite with everybody, black or white, he is brown- 
skinned, and stout, and has the most jovial face you ever saw, he cannot 
look at you without a chuckle of mirth — he is a striking contrast to your 
sister’s coachman, that sober, pompous Mr- Puffington, who always look- 
ed as if he thought everyone not sitting on the elevated seat of a carriage, 
was no more than a crawling caterpillar. Have I tired out your patience 
with this gossiping letter? Grandfather is awake and 1 must close. Give 
my love to your sister — Conny and I will never forget her kindness. 

Yours truly, Roma Charlmonte. 

P. S. — lam sorry 1 cannot now speak any fiiore explicitly about that 
(He had urged her to give a favorable answer to his suit). I cannot think 
of taking any important step without consulting Grandpapa and Mama, 
and of course I cannot do that now, that Grandpapa is so sick. He feels 
easier in his mind, because he wished to explain to me his affairs, and 
why he wishes to leave everything to me, instead of Mama, who, of course 
has the best right, but Mama concurs in Grandfather’s plans and pur- 
poses. and I am sure, no matter what the law may be, 1 shall always re- 
cognize Mama as first in every thing. Again, Goodbye. ■ R. C. 

Singleton read this letter over twice and even then, did . not 
know what to make of it. It was not like the answers he was. 


BLA CK AND WHITE. 


14S 


accustomed to receive to his ardent love letters. He took it to 
his sister to get her opinion. 

“It is a very good letter,” said that astute lady. “I do not see 
anything to complain of.” 

“You don’t! Well, I do. A fellow goes to the trouble of 
courting a girl hard , for three or four months, and he writes a 
tremendous love letter to her, and she writes a parcel of trash 
about the negroes, and the old man, and the old woman — what 
do I care for them?” 

“You forget,” said his sister, “you told her tell you all about 
her friends and surroundings, she has taken you at your word.” 

“But there isn’t one word of love in it,” he complained. 

“Of course there isn’t. She’s not the sort of a girl to fling her- 
self at a man. The fact that she writes at all is greatly in your 
favor. You must reply right away.” 

After argument and persuasion, Mr. Arthur agreed to cop}’’ an- 
other letter of his sister’s inditing ; that lady sat down and sur- 
passed herself in the beauty and passion she put into the second 
letter to the heiress. 

“This will strike to her heart,” she said, giving it to her 
brother, who sat smoking meditatively the while, “this is just 
what will take with a romantic school-girl. I must see the an- 
swer as soon as it comes. I think you will see a change in the 
tone.” 

But Mrs. Singleton was not altogether correct in her prophecy 
— the tone of the girl’s reply was just about the same as that of 
the first, as the reader may see: 

Ashcourt, April 1st, 1839. 

Mr. Arthur Singleton: 

Dear Sir: — Yours of the 15th instant is at hand. I am sorry you are 
impatient, and sorry I cannot speak more definitely, as you wish. Please 
bear in mind the circumstances that surround me, and you will see I can- 
not — cannot do otherwise at present. It would be selfish and cruel in me 
to give Mama any fresh subject for anxiety now that she suffers so much 
on Grandpapa’s account. Grandpapa does not steadily improve as we 
hoped he would. Some days he is better, then falls back and gets worse,, 
which discourages us deeply. Yesterday he would go over all the instruc- 
tions and advice to me, which he wishes me to pursue after he is gone; 
he wishes me to take his place as much as possible, and save Mama all 
annoyance and trouble. Dr. Wilmer came to our Island yesterday and 
will make his home here for the present. Our old physician, who has 
been here twenty years, wishes to retire from practice, and Wilmer takes 
his place, which greatly pleases Cousin Ed Charlmonte, they are such 
fast friends. Grandpapa is now visited by both doctors every day — I 
must stop and go to Grandpapa. 

April Mth. 

It is two weeks since I left off at this place — alas ! a very sad and un- 
happy two weeks. I thought then that 1 would return in a few minutes, 
at least in an hour or so, "and finish the letter. I had left Grandpapa 
sleeping, and, as we thought, much better, w T lien I dropped my pen and 
ran to him, I saw he was worse. He had sent Uncle Tally to Richland to 
ring his — Uncle Tally’s — father, old Daddy Dick, to see him. Daddy 
pick’s two years older than Grandpapa, they had been boys together, 
^mpanions in play, companions when hunting or fishing, and had al- 


144 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


ways been strongly attached to each other. Daddy Dick lived on the 
Richland place until one of his married daughters. When Daddy Dick 
came in, Grandpapa was sleeping, and Daddy Dick sat down by his side 
until he should open his eyes and see him. It was half an hour before 
he aw’akened, w r hen he did, a pleased smile was on his lips, as he put out 
his thin hand to meet the great brown one of Daddy Dick. The tears 
.«tood in the old negro’s eyes, Grandpapa saw them. 

“We have been good friends, Dick,’’ he said faintly, “but the best of 
friends must part, Dick — the time has come.” 

Mama, and Mammy Rose, and Damon, w T ere all weeping. The tears 
rolled down Daddv’s face. • 

“De Lord’s will "be done. Mas Henry,” he said, in a tone of pious resig- 
nation, for he is a very religious old man. 

“Yes,” said Grandpapa, with humble submission, “His w r ill be done — 
His will.” 

The old black’s feelings were deeply stirred. 

“Oh ! Mas Henry !” he said, “ef de Lord hab called you, is he foun’ you 
ready?” 

Grandpapa said he trusted in the goodness of his Creator — he was only 
a worm ot the earth — a poor, helpless w r orm, he hoped he w r ould find 
mercy at the judgment seat. 

After some more talk on religious subjects, Daddy Dick asked Grand- 
papa if he would like to join in prayer, Granpapa assented. First a hymn 
was sung. Grandpapa’s voice mingled with ours, his face was placid, a 
happy look was in his eyes, all the pain seemed gone — yet, still we felt 
that he was worse. After the singing Daddy knelt down by the bed, still 
holding his master’s wasted hand, and prayed with great feeling and fer- 
vor, more than once we heard Grandfather’s reverential “amen,” breathed 
•out in a low tone. When we all rose from our knees Grandpapa lay per- 
fectly still, his hand yet held in his old servant’s. We thought he had fal- 
len asleep. Presently Daddy Dick’s countenance showed a strange anx- 
iety, he leaned over and looked intently at his old master’s white face, 
then he laid his great brown hand on his breast over the heart — 

“He is gone ober to de promise’ lan’,” said Daddy. “He is gone ober 
■whar de wicked cease from troublen, an’ de weary is at res’ — De Lord's 
will be done.” 

Then we knew that he had left us, and, oh ! such a desolation and dark- 
mess as seemed to fall on the w-orld ! 

Roma Ciiarlmonte. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

HOW roma's letter was received by her lover. 

In the highest spirits the handsome Arthur carried this sec- 
ond letter to his sister, to get her opinion and advice as to what 
should now be done and said. 

“It’s your matrimonial chess board,” he said cheerfully. 
*“Now that the girl’s got the dead man’s shoes, I suppose you’ll 
he for pushing matters, eh, Cathy?” 

“As fast as pen and ink can do it,” said his sister. “You 
must not let her forget ycu for a moment. She’ll not marry you 
in a hurry, but she must promise, and with a girl of that sort, to 
promise is to perform.” 

“I’d like to hurry up, now she’s her own mistress; besides, I 
am getting rather hard up again, Cathy, my infernal luck’s come 
back.” 

“Just as I predicted; I hope now, Arthur,” his sister said, 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


145 


with a grand air, “that you see the wisdom of having an assured 
income, something to fall back on when cards go against you.” 

“As though I ever doubted the wisdom of having an assured 
income — it was the assured wife I did not want, not the in- 
come.” 

“Never mind that, you must urge the girl to let you visit her. 
Tell her you can no longer stand the absence, life has lost all its- 
interest for you, you feel so much for her in her grief, and all 
that. Sit down until I sketch the letter — there’s a paper, read 
and smoke, it won’t take me long, I know exactlv what should 
be said.” 

She sat down at her writing desk and wrote a beautiful letter, 
tender, feeling, passionate, prayerful — more than all, prayerful 
for permission to go to the girl in her affliction, “if for but one- 
day.” 

These letters, splendid as art compositions, were bound to 
have their effect upon the girl, who above all other intellectual 
merit, most admired literary ; still, not yet had she confessed 
to herself, her lover, or her mother, that any very serious love 
was awakened in her heart. She was strongly disposed in his fa- 
vor, she admired his beauty of person and manners, his style of 
writing, she dwelt on these attractions in the few dreams she had 
time to indulge in by day. So active was now her life, her sleep 
by night was sound and dreamless. She had not yet spoken to 
her mother on the subject, she put off doing so from day to day,,, 
unwilling to give her any new cause for anxiety. Wilmer was 
the only one on the Island who knew that -she corresponded 
with Singleton. He discovered it one morning some weeks after 
Mr. Ashford’s death. He found her sitting alone in her favorite- 
seat, overlooking the wide, wide sea, reading a letter. He saw 
the post mark, “New York City,” and his heart gave a jealous- 
bound. He had flattered himself that the man had ceased his 
pursuit. A bitter moroseness surged up in the place of the pleas- 
ant good humor he commonly felt. 

“I begin to think,” he said, scowling out on the waves that 
rolled in and broke on the sands below, “I really begin to think, 
with all the other fools in the world, that intellect is of no use 
to woman.” 

“What has occurred to make you think that?” said Roma, 
turning her dark eyes seriously upon him. “What has disturbed 
you, Wilmer?” . 

“What good does the possession of a bright intellect do a wo- 
man ? It does not serve to protect her from the wiles of design- 
ing knaves, it only adds to her misery by making her feel more 
keenly than a stupider woman would feel.” 

“But what calls forth such reflections?” persisted the girl. 

“May I. ask who wrote that letter?” 

“Yes.; you may ask.” 

“And you will answer?’ 

“Yes; I will answer.” 


146 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


‘‘Who?” 

“Singleton.” 

“Ah ! ” he sprang up from his seat by her side as if a ser- 

pent had stung him. 

“What is it, Wilmer?” startled at his unusual emotion. 

“Let me read that letter — let me see what he says to you — for- 
give me ! — do not think me impertinent !” 

His face was white and stern as he stood before her. 
“Impertinent? Can I ever think that, or anything unkind of 
you, Wilmer, after all your devotion to poor Grandpapa?” 

“There’s nothing I would not do to serve you, Roma,” he 
said with unutterable yearning and unutterable misery in his 
eyes. “Why can you not trust me as a brother — I will serve you 
as one, as the most devoted and true brother,—” 

“I can, I do trust you as a brother.” 

“Let me see that letter, then.” 

She yielded to his eagerness and put the letter in his hand. 

He turned away his face so that she could not see it as he 
read. She watched keenly to note the effect it produced, she 
knew Wilmer did not like, or admire her lover, she did not 
guess that the intensity and power of the dislike amounted to 
deadly aversion. So strong was the feeling in the young man’s 
breast at that moment, he felt the necessity of controlling and 
concealing it ; to gain a moment’s time to master it, he rushed 
down the cliff to the water’s brink, bathed his brow in the briny 
waves, wiped it with his handkerchief, and returned to Roma. 

“You are not well, Wilmer,” she said, attributing the paling 
and flush of his face to physical causes. “You study too much, 
you sit up too late — 0, I know your ways, you are often up until 
two or three in the morning. I sometimes get up to attend 
to Mama, Mama does not sleep ; I sit and talk to her, and 
■see the light in your window, and Mammy Rose says the number 
of candles you use is positively runinous. I shall get Mammy 
Rose to limit you, just as they did me once when I was seized 
with an ambitious fit. Grandpapa himself used to cut my candle 
in two and only gave me the shorter part.” 

The young fellow protested that he was quite well — he never 
hurt himself studying. He returned the letter ; one thing about 
it had surprised him — the beauty and power of its diction, he 
felt he had underrated his rival’s ability. He distrusted as much, 
but feared more. He was very wretched. 

“You have confidence in that man?” he asked, “You believe 
that he is honest, true? — that he loves you?” 

“You see what he says.” 

“Says ?” he repeated with bitter derision. “A man can say 
anything to further his purpose.” 

“What purpose? What do you mean — that he only affects the 
passion he talks of?” 

“I think — I feel, that this man is false, is designing, is un- 
worthy.” 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


147 


“You believe then, as Grandpapa did when I was a little girl, 
that I am not one to win an ardent love ? Alas !” 

“For God’s sake; Roma, do not take such absurd notions into 
your head ! Do not so belie yourself and me ! If I think this 
man is ndt true, it is because I do not think him intellectually 
or morally capable of the truth. He is not your equal. Roma, 
have you^answered that letter?” 

“I have.” 

‘‘Favorably ?” 

“You may see for yourself— it is not yet dispatched on its 
way.” 

She took a letter from her pocket — it was the one relating her 
grandfather’s death — and handed it to him. 

Wilmer read it, at first rapidly, his eyes devoured the charac- 
ters, then he re-read slowly, reflectingly, a more calm expression 
came into his troubled face. 

“Ah !” he said, giving back the letter, “a load is off my mind 
— you do not yet love that man. Roma, I hope you never 
may.” ♦ 

“I really think, Wilmer, you are prejudiced. Why do you 
think so badlv of him? What has he done, what left undone 
to make you feel so strongly ?” 

Wilmer was silent. He had nothing but his instincts to ad- 
duce, and he could not bring them into court. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

THEY GATHER TOGETHER TO READ THE WILL BUT NO WILL IS 
FOUND. 

Roma’s uncle Richard had been given the key to the drawer 
containing the will ; his brother did this weeks before his demise. 
There was no curiosity as to the nature of the will, the master of 
Ashcourt had talked of it often enough to his relatives. Every 
white person on the Island understood that Roma was to be le- 
gally invested with the estate, negroes and personal property, 
that her mother, legally, would not own a foot of ground or a 
slave and that this was done, not because he loved his daughter 
less than his granddaughter, but because he wished to shut off all 
claims his daughter’s husband would set up, should his wife in- 
herit the Ashcourt estate. The reading of the will was deferred 
some weeks on account of the serious indisposition of Mr. Rich- 
ard Ashford after his brother’s burial. 

At length they assembled in the library where stood the old 
antique desk with its numerous small pigeon holes and drawers, 
in one of which the will had been locked. The two Charlmontes, 
father and son, Wilmer, Roma and her Uncle Richard were 
present. Roma’s mother had not left her room since her fath- 
er’s death. 


148 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


Mj. Richard Arhford unlocked the drawer and took out a bun- 
dle of papers, he looked them over and took out another bundle 
and looked them over, and still a third, but' the will was in none 
of them ; he emptied the drawer, still no will, he begun to feel a 
little annoyed but continued his search until every drawer and 
pigeon hole had been examined and yet the will was not found,, 
then he went over the papers, the younger Charlmonte assisting 
him ; no vestige of a will was found. 

“There may be a secret drawer, *’ suggested Wilmer. 

Search was made and no secret drawer was found. 

“My brother certainly told me I would find the will in this 
drawer,” said Mr. Richard Ashford, “he gave me the key and 
talked over the provisions of the will ten days before he died.” 

“It was a mystery no one understood. The gentlemen begun 
to look at one another, a dull and distresed amazement in their 
eyes, they fully recognized the evil that would ensue if no will 
was found. No effort was spared, a close and general search was 
instigated, every nook and corner in the library was gone over,, 
every paper unfolded and examined Tut all in vain. After con- 
sulting together they determined to search the whole house,' 
every room in the house ; still to no purpose. By this time there 
was a general consternation, the dreadful fear that the disreputa- 
ble husband would step in and become master of the place dis- 
turbed every mind. The distress of Roma’s mother was very 
great; it required all of Roma’s time and tenderness to soothe 
and console that unhappy lady the dread of her husband’s arriv- 
al and presence was so great it completely unnerved her. Charl- 
monte was dispatched to Mr. Henry Ashford’s friend and lawyer, 
Mr. Richmond, in the hope that he had retained a duplicate will. 
Charlmonte returned with the discouraging information, Mr. 
Richmond had no duplicate will. After all hope was over a great 
depression fell on every friend of the family. The question was 
what next to do? What could they do if the husband appeared 
to assert his rights ? The whole state of South Carolina stood at 
the husband’s back to help him obtain and hold the property 
which his wife’s father had left. 

“He’ll play havoc with it,” said Mr. Richard Ashford. 

It was the hope of every heart that the man was dead and out of 
the way for ever. Mr. Richard Ashford said that the mistress of the 
“Emporium of Fashion” was a relative of the dreaded husband 
and doubtless in communication with him — if he were yet alive. 
It l) was considered best to say nothing of the lost will lest Miss 
“Dawkshiter” might write to her relative and bring him to the 
Island. Wilmer remained at Ashcourt, the others returned to- 
their homes leaving Roma and her mother a prey to the most 
painful anxiety ; every ring at the door bell startled them, every 
boat that crossed over from the main land gave them uneasiness. 
One of the windows of Mrs. Charlmonte’s room looked to the 
main land, commanding a view of the water over which the ferry 
boats crossed. Twenty times a day would the anxious mother 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


149 


watch from that window and if she saw a boat coming over would 
examine it through a field glass and fancy she recognized the man 
she most dreaded to see. 

While combing Roma’s hair Thetty told her young mistress 
that she had been to get a ribbon from “Miss Dawkshiter” an’ 
“Miss Dawkshiter” had axed her so many imperent questions 
’bout Ole Master’s will, and who was gwine ter get all Ole Mas- 
ter’s propty ? 

“What did you reply, Thetty?” asked Miss Charlmonte, the 
dark dread heavy on her heart. 

“I telled Miss Dawkshiter in cose Mis Calline an’ Miss Roma 
is gwine ter get Ole Master’s propty — who else got any right to 
get it I’d like ter know ? Den she sorter laugh to liersef an’ say 
she didn’ know but Ole Massa might a’ lef ’ somebody else suffin.” 

A few days after Roma w T ent for a walk, when tired she seated 
herself on the ledge overlooking the sea and waited for Damon 
who was coming from the post office. In the sad life of anxiety 
she was now living Singleton’s letters were looked for as the one 
bright event. Damon whistled gaily as he came along, his pop- 
eyes staring straight before him, seeming to have no more thought 
of the future than any one of the gay birds flitting through the air. 

“If that horrible man comes,” thought the girl looking at the 
black dandy as he affectedly picked his way from side to side to 
avoid the dust, his straw hat set jauntily on or.e side of his wool- 
ly head, “what a change he may make in your condition — poor 
thing! he may sell you away from all your friends ; you may fall 
in the hands of cruel task masters — Damon ! Damon !” 

She called him aloud, he turned, stopped whistling, took off 
his hat with a Chesterfieldian bow, laid his big hand encased in 
white cotton gloves on the spot w T hich he supposed covered his 
heart : 

“Lor’ ! Miss Roma you starts me so sudden it sots my heart to 
pappitatin’ drefful.” 

The anxiety of mind endured by bis mistress had brought on 
a nervous affection of the heart. It was Damon’s last affectation 
to suffer from palpitation of the heart also; he imagined it must 
be peculiarly a “fus’ quality” ailment as he had never happened 
to hear of any cases among “po’ W’hite folks” and the very fact 
that so grand a lady as his mistress, Old Master’s daughter, had 
the complaint was enough to stamp it as aristocratic in the high- 
est degree or “fus’ quality” which was the same thing. 

“Any letters for me Damon?” asked the girl not noticing his 
affectation. 

The negro did not know a letter in the book, nevertheless he 
knew the general aspect of the names of each person in Ash- 
court to whom letters and papers were sent and commonly man- 
aged to deliver them to the right persons. The black dandy be- 
gan to fumble in the mail bags, drawing out one after another, 
papers and letters, eying each with an air of solemn intentness, 
shaking his head, and diving down for another. 


150 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


“Yer’s two come fur Dr. Wilmer,” he said, “and yer’s a paper 
fur Dr. Wilmer,, an’ yer’s soiuefin come for Miss Calline, an’ sho 
miff! yer’s one fur Miss Roma. I made sho dar was two for Miss 
Roma — dar hit.” 

He presented it with a bow holding it delicately between his 
gloved forefinger and thumb. Roma sat down and looked at the 
unopened letter, her heart beat fast, she knew well from whom it 
came, it was Singleton’s reply to Roma’s letter relating her grand- 
father’s death, it was a powerful, pleading! beseeching letter. So 
deeply did it touch the girl’s heart she resolved to speak at once 
to her mother, resolved to* disclose the whole story. She started 
home intent on this purpose ; when within a few yards of the 
house she was startled by a wild scream — a shriek — a succession 
of shrieks, as if reason had suddenly flashed from some unhappy 
mind and left it a prey to madness and despair. Roma ran to the 
house and up the stairs to that terrifying sound. The servants, 
in wild consternation, crowded around their mistress who lay on 
the floor now silent and insensible. They lifted her to the bed 
and used such restoratives as they knew of until Wilmer, who 
was sent for, should arrive. If recovered from one swoon she 
fell into another, until her system succumbed to an anodyne. 
Then Roma and Wilmer begun to search for the cause of the 
trouble. Roma had left her mother rather more cheerful than 
she had been since the failure to find the will. Damon said that 
when he came with the mail and went to give his mistress a let- 
ter he found her sitting on the sofa as well as usual. The letter 
was looked for, and when found the cause of the shock was made 
plain. Wilmer and Roma read that letter with white faces and 
agitated hearts. The very address Roma thought was enough to 
kill her mother : 

To Mrs. Caroline Hilly ard (sometimes called Mrs. Caroline Charlmonte ) , Ash 

court , Ashford Isle, S. C. 

My Dear Wife : — I have just learned of your father’s death. As he was 
the cause of all the trouble between you aud me I hope, now that he is 
out of the way, we may live together*once more in that peace and affec- 
tion proper to the married life. You may expect me home almost any 
hour after you get this letter. I wish to know what disposition your fath- 
er made of his property ; I trust, before leaving this world, he became sen- 
sible of the great wrong he did to his daughter’s husband. You must be 
aware of the fact that I am your lawful husband and as you are now the 
mistress of Ashcourt I am the master. I hope, now tha't you are older, 
you have come to recognize the wisdom of the law which holds a man as 
head of the family; the laws of God and man have established the hus- 
band as the head, yet your father chose to set aside sacred and civil laws 
and induced you to withdraw from your husband’s control contrary to the 
divine will as well as the wisdom of man. I hope your father saw his er- 
ror before he died. I hope you are now ready to return to your duty as 
my wife as I shall immediately return to my dutv as your husband. 

Your affectionate husband, 

Benjamin Franklin Hillyard. 

“Is there nothing we can do?” asked the girl with white lips 
is there no way we can keep that dreadful man out of the house ? 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


151 


Is he really to come here — master ?” 

Wilmer was silent, he could see no way of keeping a man out 
of a house, when the whole State of South Carolina was pushing 
him in. 

The two uncles were sent for, but what could they do? If the 
law made the man master of Ashcourt they were as powerless as 
ants to resist the law. 

The dreadful news that “dat ar oudacious husban’ o’ Miss Gal- 
line’s was cornin’ for to sethissef up master o’ de Ashcote folks” 
spread among the negroes, and set them in a turmoil of anxiety. 
Such was the demoralization all work ceased ; they collected in 
groups before their cabin doors and talked by the hour. The ne- 
groes who had known the man during his brief reign at Richland 
were in great demand as authorities to give accounts of the na- 
ture and character of the new master they dreaded. Tallyrand 
was interviewed a dozen times a day by deputations of darkies, 
desiring to hear the account of his incarceration in the traders’ 
yard, put there by “dat ar oudacious man what Miss Calline went 
an’ married unbeknown to Ole Mas Henry.” 

The uncles sent to the city for the family lawyer, Mr. Rich- 
mond. Mr. Richmond was laid up w T ith an attack of rheumatism 
and sent Mr. Precedent Tome, a very learned and able gentleman 
of the bar, whom Mr. Richmond had recently taken into his firm. 
The arrival of this very learned gentleman gave great satisfaction 
and raised high hopes in the breasts of the two uncles. They 
had heard wonders of Mr. Tome’s ability ; it was generally con- 
ceded that what Mr. Tome did not know of law was not worth 
knowing, and if there was any way to get ahead of the objectiona- 
ble husband, Mr. Tome would be the man to point it out. 

Mr. Tome was tall and angular, a sallow hue was spread over 
his whole person, complexion, hair and eyes were all of a “what- 
ness” to borrow Mammy Rose’s description to Tallyrand, as the 
two talked over affairs in the kitchen. Mr. Tome’s eye-balls ap- 
pealed to be preternaturally large. He had the habit, while lis- 
tening to a client’s statement of his case, of dropping his sallow 
lids over his sallow eyeballs, spreading out his ten fingers and 
gently tapping the five tips of one hands against the five tips of 
the other, all the while the large eyeballs rolling about, up and 
down and from side to side under their skinny covering. Such 
was the curiously restive behaviour of Mr. Tome’s eyeballs as he 
listened to Mr. Richard Ashford’s statement of the case, every 
other eye in the room was fixed upon them in a sort of wonder- 
ing expectancy or fear that they would make their escape and 
roll out of their sockets. 

4 'As I understand the case, my good sir,” said Mr. Tome, witty 
an air of profound cogitation, “it is quite simple — quite so in- 
deed. First, (gently tapping his ten finger tips together) first, . 
the man Hillyard is the lady’s legal husband — that is admit- 
ted.” 

“That is admitted,” replied Mr. Ashford, with a sigh, his gaze 


152 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


anxiously riveted on the rolling balls under the sallow lids of the 
legal gentleman. 

“Secondly,” continued the legal gentleman, “no will was 
left.” 

“Pardon me, the will was left but not found,” hastily corrected 
Mr. Ashford. 

“All the same in law, my dear sir — all the same in law,” re- 
plied Mr. Tome, his eyeballs rolling about with furious agita- 
tion. 

“It may be all the same in law but it is not the same in fact,” 
persisted Mr. Ashford, “my brother told me he had a will — I 
know there was a will because he said there was.” 

“Precisely — -no doubt of that — none in the world,” said Mr. 
Tome, suavely, “nevertheless, my dear sir, the statement wont 
stand legal tests — not at all — not at all.” 

During the utterance of this learned and lucid opinion Mr. 
Tome’s eyeballs went on in that wonderful way as if they certain- 
ly would jump out but for the fact that the sallow lids shut down 
and held them in. Poor Mr. Ashford looked on with painful 
anxiety. 

“The law, my dear sir,” resumed Mr. Tome, authoritatively, 
“is, so to speak, very explicit and emphatic in defining a hus- 
band’s marital rights, very ; marital rights form the very founda- 
tion, as we may say, of our civilized society — the pillars. Every 
husband, my dear sir, whether objectionable or not, is supported 
in his rights by the wisdom of the — Law 

This last word was pronunced by Mr. Tome with a reverential 
awe as if in his mind’s eye, before his spiritual vision, his phys- 
ical being darkened by his sallow lids, loomed up mighty and ma- 
jestic as a god that power called Law. 

Poor Mr. Ashford groaned aloud. All hope of escape was fast 
fleeing from Roma and her friends, they too well knew that the 
law supported a man in his marital rights, that is it gave to the 
husband every particle of property the wife might inherit or para 
by her own labor. Simple-minded folks, not learned in the law, 
might call this marital wrongs but the legal mind saw in it only 
the beauty of justice and right. 

Roma’s friends had hoped that by some legal trick the plain 
letter of the law might be evaded; if the learned and astute Mr. * 
Tome could not devise or suggest any trick there was no longer 
room for hope. Mr. Tome was candid enough to confess he saw 
no way of evading the law. If the man were truly the woman’s 
legal husband and the property. had descended to the woman, in 
fact and law, the husband was at that very moment the true own- 
er of the property, and could take possession of it any moment he 
saw fit. 

. The younger Charlmonte suggested that the man might be 
bought off, that a certain portion of the proceeds of the estate 
could be set aside for his use on condition that he leave the Is- 
land, and his wife in peace in the home she had lived in so long. 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


153 


Mr. Tome’s eyeballs went into convulsions at this suggestion, 
be sagely remarked, gently touching his finger tips together* 
“that it would be a good plan, a very good plan, a most excel- 
lent plan, if the husband would consent to it — a very comforta- 
ble plan all around, certainly — if the husband agreed to it.” 

“You think he wull not agree?” asked the younger Charl- 
monte, whose simple mind thought equity ought always to rule 
as law . 

“Certainly not,” replied old Mr. Ashford, “the man is a dog, 
he will do nothing generous, gentlemanly or just, he will sieze 
and spend all which the law allows him to take.” 

“Quite natural,” said Mr. Tome, tenderly tapping his ten fin- 
ger tips together while his large eyeballs excitedly rolled about, 
“quite natural indeed ; men, my dear sir, usually avail them - 
selves of all- the rights and privileges the law in its wisdom be- 
stows upon them — quite natural.” 

“The law then is the wrong-doer,” said Roma, who had hith- 
erto silently listened, “law then is the robber, the criminal, the 
brigand, which robs my mother, and the man is only the misera- 
ble tool of the law.” 

Mr. Precedent Tome shot one slight glance from under his sal- 
low lids at the young person who gave utterance to such absurd, 
not to say treasonable sentiments, perceiving; as Mr. Blackstone 
Coke Sharpe would describe it, only a “female mind,”Mr. Tome 
very naturally thought the “female mind’s” utterances beneath 
his notice, and turned his attention to the male minds present. 

“May I ask,” he suavely begun in a gentle, confidential, insin- 
uating tone, “may I ask — ehem ! if there is any possibility of a — 
that is, can we not — ehem ! bring about a — reconciliation between 
this married pair?” 

Mr. Tome’s eyeballs gently and mildly rolled around under 
their lids as if softened and sweetened memories of married life 
pervaded his legal mind. • 

Roma was up in arms, the words reconciliation roused her very 
soul to rebellion. 

“ Reconciliation — never !” she said, her dark face glowing with 
an inward light, “if we are to be beggars — so be it ; never recon- 
ciliation at such a price as we will have to pay for it.” 

Mr. Tome again shot a glance at the “female mind” which so 
unexpectedly raised its puny power to front and flout the maj- 
esty of the Law, and as his sallow lids hastily snapped down 
again the balls Went into a mild and ameliorated convulsion, 
nothing a “female mind” could say was worthy of any more de- 
cided action on the part of learned and legal eyeballs. Mr. 
Tome, following the custom of his deity, the Law, which now and 
then under peculiar circumstances condescended to recognize the 
existence of the female mind, ventured to indulge the weakness 
-of a sly glance at that insignificant object, yet rightly feeling that 
legal dignity forbade any more pointed notice, Mr. Tome ad- 


154 


BLACK AND WHITE. 

dressed his learning and his law entirely to the male minds* 
present, utterly ignoring the female. 

“Circumstances, ” begun Mr. Tome, with that air of legal au- 
thority so well calculated to impress his hearers, “as you have 
doubtless had occasion to observe, my dear sirs, often alter cases, 
it not infrequently occurs that ladies — ehem ! — have the happy 
facility of — adaptability — quite proper and natural to the-— fe- 
male mind — peculiarly fit, right and proper to adapt themselves 
to their husband’s character disposition and circumstances — 
quite to females, quite so indeed, in harmony, if we may so speak 
(here Mr. Tome’s uneasy eyeballs manifested a violent desire to 
roll upward as if they wanted to go on an exploring expedition 
through the upper part of his cranium, or was it a reverential fit 
that seized them ?) with the divine law of Heaven.” 

Yes, it must have have been a reverential fit that suddenly 
overleapt the legal. As everyone sat silent and expectant Mr. 
Tome proceeded : 

“In the present case, gentlemen, as you will perceive, the wife 
has now everything to gain by the exercise of that happy power 
of adaptibility so — so beneficially bestowed upon the female 
mind — and nothing to lose. When the estrangement took place 
the situation was reversed — exactly. then the wife had everything 
to gain by not adapting herself to her husband’s character, on 
the contrary she, at that time, found it to her interest to abandon 
her husband and adapt herself to her father’s character, situation 
and circumstances consequently, as you know, she sought her 
father’s protection from the husband. There is now no father to 
save her from her husband therefore reconciliation — ” 

Roma could stand this no longer she stood up straight, slender, 
flameful, her dark eyes lightened. 

“Now there is no father to save her but there is a daughter,” 
she said in a tone of intense but suppressed passion, “your ae^ 
cursed law may rob us of our own and send us out penniless on 
the world, but*Svhile there are rags in the city’s streets and paper 
mills to buy them we will fish the gutters for rags and sell them 
for bread rather than submit to reconciliation with a man my 
mother loaths.” 

At this moment Damon came in with a card. Mr. Ashford 
took it. 

“The man is here,” said the old man, trembling all over. 

A death-like silence fell on the house. Roma, as white as a 
marble statue was the first to speak. 

. “If the man is to be put over us by law — if he takes posses- 
sion, we must abandon the premises, a hollow tree will be 
preferable.” 

“Do not act too hastily,” said her uncle, “there is no need to 
go at once. Go to your mother now and comfort her as you can.” 

“Reconciliation,” softly breathed Mr. Tome as Roma swept 
out into the hall and up the stairway to her mother's chamber, 
“is the only remedy now in sight.” 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


155 


The man so dreaded entered the room, Damon ushered him in 
and politely gave him a chair, the other men present looked at 
him in dumb and indignant astonishment. The new master nod- 
ded his head by way of greeting, his manner was bold, swagger- 
ing and defiant. 

“Good evening, good people, al 1 , ’ ’ he said, with an affected 
grin which did not indicate much pleasure in the meeting. “De- 
lighted to see so many friends at Ashcourt, hope you’re all well 
and will stay and dine with us, my wife will be delighted to see 
you— as I am— ha! ha!” 

If glances had power to kill, the new master would have fallen 
then the first moment of his entrance into the house he intended 
to rule over.. It was indeed a trial to those proud, imperious 
planters to witness the insolent air of this interloper; they look- 
ed on him with fierce sternness. 

“You are not as cordial as you might be, gentlemen,” sneered 
the new master, “perhaps you don’t recognize me. I am your 
niece’s husband, I’ve come to live at home with my wife and by 
I mean to do it.” 

The man’s manner was so offensive, so vulgarly aggressive 
young Charlmonte’s impulse was to resent, he sprang forward, 
his arm raised, his eyes fierce and flaming, the man dodged be- 
hind a table and from that rampart glared at his assailant. 

“Don’t touch him, don’t foul your hand by striking a dog,” 
said Charlmonte’s father, seizing his son by the arm. 

“You may kill me— you are half a dozen to one — I expected 
no better from my wife’s kin — you may murder me if you choose 
but you don’t mend matters — I made my will before trusting my- 
self among you, my brother is my heir — now kill me if you 
choose.” 

“No one wants to murder you, you deserve to die but gentle- 
men are not executioners,” said the elder Charlmonte, then 
hastily scrawling a line on a piece of paper, after passing it from 
one to another it was finally given to the lawyer who nodded in 
assent and with one accord the planters left the room to Mr, 
Tome and the new master. 

“We can do nothing except by aid of law, we had better go and 
leave the man to Mr. Tome; authorize him to make a 
compromise if possible.” This was the paper left with Mr. 
Tome but that gentleman saw no legal way out of the difficulty, 
no weak spot to pick a flaw in the new master’s right to rule the 
estate; nevertheless he made an effort, he made a nice little per- 
suasive speech on the beauty of harmony, on the painfulness of 
neighborhood quarrels and appealed to Mr. Hillyard’s sense of 
the befitting and proper thing to do under the circumstances, 
since his wife was estranged from him, would it not be better for 
all parties to make a compromise, an amicable settlement? 

“What do you mean?” asked the unabashed new master, 
“whatever you’ve got to say, say it right out, no beating about 
the bush, my mind’s made up, my wife’s kin may go to the devil 


156 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


and my wife too if she doesn’t choose to behave as a Christian 
wife should, love and obey her husband as she promised at the 
altar. Now you just fire away and give us what you’ve got.” 

Then Mr. Tome said it would be the right and gentlemanly 
thing for Mr. Hillyard to leave his wife in peace in her 
lather’s house, her old home, and secure her a handsome portion 
of the proceeds of the place.” 

“I’ll be hanged if I do,” shouted the new master, “I’ll give 
my wife board and clothes as long as she lives with me and be- 
haves herself — if she gets to cutting up and capers off, I’ll make no 
settlement you may just set that down, Mr. Lawyer and let her 
kin know it too.” 

“A sense of equity, my dear sir — you must see that equity if 
not law would advise you to maintain your wife in the style she 
has been accustomed to live, the property came by her father.” 

“Exactly, the law says what’s a wire’s is her husband’s, if you 
are a lawyer you must know that.” 

“Precisely,” admitted Mr. Tome, his ten fingers tapping their 
tips tenderly together, his eyeballs gently rolling about under 
their lids. 

“Very well then you admit the property is mine, now isn’t it 
rather cool to ask a man to take a part ot his property when he 
can take the whole f You may just tell my wife's kin that I 
know my rights under the law and I don’t intend to give up one 

d n inch of ’em. This is my house and the niggers of this 

estate are my niggers, I am the master and by thunder ! I intend 
to stay master.” 

Mr. Tome left the house and reported to the gentlemen that 
he saw no remedy except in reconciliation. The whole state of 
South Carolina. stood at the back of the husband and supported 
him in his robbery of the woman he had married. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE OBJECTIONABLE HUSBAND ASSUMES THE MASTERSHIP. 

The condition of Roma’s mother was not only pitiable, but 
alarming. She was prostrated, mind and body, her daughter 
kept close attendance night and day. Had a lion from the Afri- 
can desert been unchained in the house, hungry for her blood, 
she could have been in no more terror than she was at the knowl- 
edge that her husband was on the premises, free to come and go 
whithersoever he willed. Every footstep in the hall made her 
cower and shrink lest he should force his way into her room and 
claim from her the obedience of a wife. In addition to this, she 
was tortured by self-condemnation ; she felt that all this trouble 
had come through her, she declared she would willingly throw 
herself into the sea if her death would reinstate Roma in her 
rights. 

“We do not blame you, Mama, indeed, indeed, you are not to 


157 


BLACK AND WHITE. 

i 

blame,” the daughter would say, attempting to calm her moth- 
er's regrets, as she tenderly clasped her in her arms. “Anyone 
is liable to make mistakes, it was not your fault, Mama, that the 
man hid his bad qualities from you until it was too late — no in- 
deed, Mama, never for one minute do we blame you, dear, dar- 
ling Mama, and if you will only bear it patiently and get well, 
Mama, oh ! what grand schemes I have ! I have been talking 
them over with Dr. Calyx and Wilmer, I shall make a fortune 
for Mama, I shall go to work — I mean to study medicine — oh ! I 
believe 1 shall make a splendid physician, Mama, so you see, 
Mama, when I am a doctor — just- imagine, Dr. Charlmonte, 
riding over the country, making so much money ! Why, Mama, 
it will be almost as if you had a son, a grown son, you know you 
have always wanted a son, now I shall be your son, and you are 
to lean on me, just as if I were a great big, bearded fellow, six 
fee t tall — ” 

But the wan smile that the poor mother called up to 
please her daughter, faded all too quickly, and the regrets and 
remorse came up again to overwhelm and pain. She wrung her 
hands and accused herself of bringing ruin on her child, of em- 
bittering the latter years of her father’s life, of disgracing the 
name her daughter bore — she had given up that honorable name 
to take a gambler’s, she had yielded to an aberration of mind, 
and sacrificed all — all, for a caprice. i 

Again and again Roma went over the old arguments, again and 
again she strove to convince her mother that she was more sin- 
ned against than sinning. 

“The law has no right to hold a woman forever to a mistake!” 
•cried the girl, when her mother’s sufferings and wrongs filled 
her with resentment, not against her mother, but against the law 
which put her so completely in the power of a selfish man. 

“It is the law I blame, Mama, never you. When you discover- 
ed the true character of the man, you left him at once, that was 
right, that was pure, you did not continue to contaminate your- 
self by contact with an ignoble nature, a false, deceiving nature 
— Oh ! had you done that, Mama, then indeed you might re- 
proach yourself. You have done no wrong. Mama, you were 
simply deceived, that is all. The law does wrong; the law robs 
you of your father’s estate and gives it to an unworthy man, the 
law holds you to a gambler you loathe — I hate and scorn the law! 
It is as silly as it is wicked. Were I a man, I would devote my 
life to bring about a change, to wipe out all such laws — but, alas ! 
my hands are tied — my hands are tied !” 

Roma and her friends thought, as they could not get the man 
out of the house, the next best thing was to come out themselves. 
The Charlmontes invited Roma and her mother to make Charl- 
monte Hall their home. Wilmer advised the change. Roma 
and her mother consented. Mammy Ro$e was to accompany 
them; Mrs. Charlmonte had been so long accustomed to Mammy 
Rose that no other servant could supply her place. A warm 


158 


BLACJC AND WHITE. 


bright day was selected on which make the move, a day on 
which it was understood that the new master would be absent. 
The servants understood that he was going to Richland, to be ab- 
sent a week, to look after the work on that place. Thus far, 
much to the negroes disgust and indignation, he had devoted 
his time and attention to the Ashcourt place, “nriedliiff whar he 
got no business ter,’’ as the blacks said. 

The large family coach was brought out. Mammy Rose, a tall, 
strong woman, was to sit in the carriage and hold the invalid in 
her motherly arms. Thetty was to go in the little light wagon, 
with baskets and boxes and paper parcels, etc. Jake, the stable 
boy, who, under Tallyrand’s supervision, looked after the horses, 
was to take the trunks containing the clothing for the party. It 
was supposed that- the master had set off for Richland, but it was 
a mistake. Just as the arrangements were completed and Mam- 
my Rose and Thetty had gone up to bring down their mistress, 
the new master rode up. Tallyrand stood by the carriage door, 
Jake was already mounted on the wagon with the baggage. The 
new master eyed these preparations with curiosity. An angry 
light came into his soulless black eyes. 

“What’s the row ?” he sternly asked. 

Tallyrand politely replied, that he was going to drive his mis- 
tress to Charlmonte Hall. 

“And what is all that ?” he asked, shaking his riding whij? in 
the direction of Jake and the baggage. 

When he was told that it belonged to the mistress and Mammy 
Rose, he flew into a tearing rage, ordered it taken off and carried 
back into the house, and swore he would flog any negro to an 
inch of his life who dared step his or her foot off the Ashcourt 
grounds without his permission; he would let them know he was 
their master, and he meant to hold a tight rein over them; they 
had better look out and mind what they were about. 

Tally was ordered to take the carriage back and put it up, and 
to remember that he, Master Hillyard, was to be consulted be- 
fore it was brought out in the future. 

Roma heard the latter part of this extraordinary harangue; 
white as a sheet, aghast and astounded at the audacious extent to 
which the new master meant to carry his authority, she ran 
back to her room, calmed her nerves as well as she could, cudg- 
eled her brain to devise some trifling excuse for deferring the 
move, lest the true reason, if given, would too severely affect 
her mother. After a hurried conversation with Mammy Rose, 
Roma, smiling and with a serene brow, stepped into her moth- 
er’s room and said they would be forced to put off going to Charl- 
monte Hall that day; Uncle Tally could not use the carriage,, 
something was wrong about it, they would wait until it was in 
better order, besides, D#. Wilmer thought she would be stronger 
in a few days and better able to bear the journey. 

Not yet had either Roma or her mother met this dreaded and 
detested master. He did not stay much in the house, and they 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


159 


kept closely to their own apartments, their meals were served in 
their own rooms.* Wilmer, at the urgent request of Roma, re- 
mained in Ashcourt, going to his office in the village every morn- 
ing. Hillyard and the young physician frequently met in the 
hall and on the stair steps, they treated each other with cool po- 
liteness; Wilmer prudently resolved to give him no cause for 
complaint, believing by remaining in the house he was of some 
service and comfort to the two unhappy ladies. It would be al- 
]nost impossible to describe the state of feeling in the negro cab- 
ins. Nothing was thought of, nothing talked of, but the new 
master. If the negroes hated the master, the ill-feeling was re* 
turned on the master’s part. 

All the gaiety of the plantation life was gone. The negroes 
gave an unwilling obedience, gave that lagging, slack obedience 
that always comes from unloving servitors. It began to be ob- 
served that the new master took unusual precaution to guard 
himself. Whom did he fear? — The whites, or the blacks, or 
both ? The latter certainly thought they were the objects of his 
fear, and began to scorn as well as hate. He never walked out, 
or rode out, or went on the water, without being armed to the 
teeth, and guarded by two rough specimens of the white race, 
whom he had brought with him from the city. These two at- 
tended him day and night, sleeping in an ante-room, arms by 
their side. The trio were looked upon with scornful hatred by 
the negroes, and a stern wrath by the whites. The old lady, 
Miss Susan Stokes, whom the Island girls had brought with them 
from the Finisher Institute, came over from Ash Hall to stay 
with Roma in her time of trouble. Miss Susan had, as the young 
ladies of the Finisher Institute expressed it, “for ages and 
ages” been the seamstress who did plain sewing for the girls of 
the Institute. 

It chanced one day that Miss Susan related to the Island girls 
the poor little story of her life, how, when only sixteen, her 
lather, a Methodist circuit rider, died, leaving her penniless; 
how she was at school at the time and had to quit school; and 
immediately begin to work for her bread ; and how she had 
taken up the trade of sewing, and for forty years had been stitch- 
ing, stitching, stitching, from daylight until dark, and on until 
midnight ; and had never earned enough to lay by a cent, pinch 
and lfalf- starve herself as she might, so small was the price 
paid for needle work ; and how, now that she was get- 
ting old and her eyes failing, she began to fear that she would 
live longer than she could see to sew, and would become depend- 
ent upon charity, upon the poor house for her daily bread ; and 
how, during all the forty years that she had toiled, she had nev- 
er had but one resting spell, and that was three days of “heaven- 
ly grace,” as the good old lady expressed it, at a Methodist 
camp meeting. These three days Miss Susan’s memory dwelt 
upon as indeed heavenly. The cool shade under the grand old 
forest trees, the singing of a thousand voices united in pious 


160 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


praise to God, the hospitality that called up and fed and lodged 
the poor and the rich without money and without price, the ab- 
sence of any thought of labor, the apparent forgetfulness of all 
■car king cares, of all the disagreements and discords that harass 
the daily lives of saints or sinners, all these causes combined, 
made those three days a heavenly and spiritual feast to the poor 
friendless, over-worked, joyless old seamstress. 

This story had so touched the hearts of the two girls whose 
whole livesjjhad passed like a happy dream, that the idea entered 
their young heads of doing some service for the desolate old crea- 
ture, something that would lighten and brighten her sunless life; 
vet the word, sunless, could hardly be applied to Miss Susan’s 
life; a sunny light shone within — the light of a cheerful, hopeful 
spirit. Never a repining word, never a murmur passed her 
faded lips at the dispensation of Providence, she really believed 
that the good Lord intended it all for her good, either in this 
world or the next. So the two girls wrote home to their mothers 
asking permission to bring Miss Susan home with them. 

“If she thinks a camp meeting up here in this country is a 
paradise, what will she not think of our paradise, with its birds 
and flowers and breezes, and the blue skies and wide, wide wa- 
ters ?” Roma wrote, “And we wish to give her at least six months 
of our paradise, Mamma, she can stay part of the time at ' Ash 
Hall and part at Ashcourt, and I’m sure, Mamma, we can make 
out to her that she is very useful, she can make caps for the old 
negroes, and flannel things for the babies, and w r e can make out 
to her that such work is worth — anything you choose to pay, 
Mamma; vou’ve no idea how very, very little she gets for work 
up here.” 

Thus it happened that the old maid came down to the Island 
with the girls. At first sne seemed to imagine that daily 
work was to be done in return for the food and lodging and small 
pay she received, but it did not take long to discover that the 
work was a fiction, that Ash Hall and Ashcourt both possessed 
accomplished black sewing women, who had nothing to do but 
look after the family sewing. For some little time Miss Susan 
did not know how to enjoy herself, she had worked so hard and. 
so unremittingly all her life, she did not know how not to work. 
She Avould often of a morning come to the girls — 

“What shall I do to-day ?” 

“What ever you like, Miss Susan.” 

“But, my dear, I have no work.” 

“Then do no work, Miss Susan.” 

“But, my dear, I am lost without work." 

“Then go and walk about in the garden, Miss Susan, or on the 
beach, and find yourself.” 

This had occurred in the hopeful time, before Roma’s grand- 
father’s demise. After his death Miss Susan busied herself as- 
sisting Roma in attendance on her mother. When Mrs. Charl- 
monte was well enough for both of the white ladies to go out for 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


161 : 


a walk, Roma would take the old lady out with her, and when? 
she visited the negro cabins Roma observed that, although the 
old lady felt very kindly toward the blacks, and looked upon 
slavery as a very wicked thing, still she felt a strong repugnance 
to any personal contact with them. When she saw Roma and 
Conny take the little, fat black babies in their arms and play 
with them, a certain peculiar expression of disgust would come' 
over the old maid’s face. 

Roma remonstrated. 

*‘I do not understand how you can feel that way, Miss Susan, ” 
she said. “I saw you take Ponto in your arms the other day and 
kiss him on his forehead. Now, a fat black baby is nicer than a 
puppy; a black baby is human and has a soul, a puppy ha» 
not.” 

“The old lady felt condemned and made a laudable effort to 
cure herself of this wicked repugnance toward creatures with im- 
mortal souls. She succeeded so far as to once take up in her 
hands a lump of black humanity, as if it were some little beast 
that might bite. Roma advised, her to give it up and content 
herself with kindness at a distance. 

A few days after the day they failed to go to Chari monte Hall, 
as intended, Roma, after consulting Wilmer about it, resolved to« 
seek an interview with the new master. She had seen him 
about sunset, from her window, ride up between his two white* 
guards. After supper the trio retired to their own apartments. 
With a beating heart Roma knocked at the door, which was un- 
locked and unbolted by one of the w 7 hite men within. She stood 
in the doorway and looked in on the scene. Her 
step-father sat with his face fronting her, his feet propped up on 
the table, a cob pipe in his mouth, a bottle and a glass be- 
fore him. The three men stared at the girl, who stared back at 
them. 

“I wish to speak to Mr. Hillyrrd,” she said. 

“I’m your man — fire away,” was the reply, first taking a sup 
of brandy from the glass, after laying down his pipe. 

“My mother is very ill, I wished to take her to Chari monte* 
Hall — am I to understand that you intend to prevent it?” 

“I intend to prevent my negroes from going off my land with- 
out my consent,” he replied, with a defiant look in his eyes. 

“Am I to understand then, that my mother will not be allow- 
ed to use the carriage to drive out if she feels like it?” 

“You are to understand that I do not allow my wife to visit 
my enemies — the men at Charlmonte Hall are my enemies.” 

“The men at Charlmonte Hall are our relations, if we cannot 
use our own carriage, we can use theirs.” 

Roma turned to go. 

“Not quite so fast, my girl. We had better understand one 
another. I claim no control over you— I shall attempt none.. 
Your mother is my wife. I shall certainly see that she does not 
disobey my orders. She will not be allowed to use the carriage- 


162 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


of my enemies. She will not be allowed to go into the house of 
my enemies. If you do not like the rules of this house, you are 
free to leave it at any moment you please.” 

“My God!” exclaimed the girl, aghast, “Would you wish to 
separate me from Mamma? Do you wish to kill Mamma ?” 

“ You must not try that game on me, my girl,” said tine man 
sneeringly, “you can’t humbug me — you’re only mad because 
you didn’t turn out the grand heiress you expected to be. It’s 
well known all over the country that you tried your level best to 
wheedle the old man into making a will in your favor and leave 
your mother out in the cold, eh? do you deny it? Very unfilial 
conduct I should say, very unnatural; so you see, my girl, 
there’s no sort of use now, at this late day, for you to set your- 
self up as a model daughter, a devoted nurse and all that, not a 
bit, we understand all that you see, so — ” 

Roma stood a picture of petrified horror, disgust and despair, 
then she turned and fled as from a monster. Never before had 
it entered into her imagination that any creature in the shape of 
humanity could show so much malignancy. She resolved to ap- 
peal to her relations to come to rescue her mother from the con- 
trol of a man whom she felt was as cruel and callous to all sense 
of honor as a wild beast. On the next day no opportunity pre- 
sented itself, the servants were ordered not to leave the house. 
One of Hillyard’s white guards was despatched to the city while 
Hilly ard and the other man remained to guard the house as the 
terrified servants informed their young mistress. The front door 
was locked and barred and the two men sat in the back hall door. 
Wilmer’s entrance and exit were not interfered with. Wilmer 
politely asked the new master if he expected to be besieged by 
dangerous foes, he was answered with an oath that he was ex- 
pecting his wife’s kin to make an attempt to abduct his wife and 
by G — d he meant to shoot the first man that interfered between 
him and his wife. She was his to hold and control and he’d give 
that man h — 1 who tried to rob him of his own. Thus it happen- 
ed that the ladies of Ashcourt were prisoners in the house, Roma 
had leave to go, but Roma could not leave her mother and there 
was no legal way by which a wife could be rescued from her hus- 
band’s control. In the midst of these harassments and anxieties 
the following advertisement, which appeared in several of the 
Charleston papers, greatly added to the distress of Roma and her 
relatives. The papers were kept from her mother. 

GREAT AUCTION SALE OF STOCK AND NEGROES ! 

On the 1st. day of next October at my place Ashcourt, on Ashford Isle 
I will sell to the highest bidder a number of fine milk cows, two yokes of 
oxen well broken and a young, fine saddle horse, six young mules and 
twenty-five likely negroes, field and house servants, sold for no fault but 
to meet the necessities of the owner. B. F. Hillyard. 

[Savannah (Ga.) Trumpet and Mobile Courier copy and send bill to 

• B. F. Hillyard.] 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


163 


Never before were a people so indignant as the Ashford Island- 
ers, white and black. The negroes fell into wild consternation, 
they buzzed about in small gangs like angry bees blind with 
fright and rage. Hillyard and his white guards redoubled their 
vigilance, one or two of the ring leaders, or rather the loudest 
talkers, of the negroes, were seized and thrashed severely which 
had the effect of overawing the rest so that they returned to their 
work in sullen silence, their hearts seething with rage. 

No male visitor save the medical men were allowed to see Ro- 
ma’s mother. Roma was told that she might receive her friends 
provided she made no attempt to abduct her mother. In the 
midst of this commotion, one bright day, Calyx came to Ashcourt 
to see Roma; he had been on an extensive lecturing tour, had met 
with good success and saved enough to go on with his medical 
lectures in the winter when he expected to receive his diploma. 
Calyx gave a good account of the woman he had cured of Alco- 
holism, she had proved to be a splendid subject on which to 
operate mesmerically, he had left his sister and the subject in 
the city, they needed rest, he wished to find lodging for his party 
in some seaside cottage. 

‘ ‘Bring them to us,” said Roma thinking that she would like 
to have Ashcourt full of people, numbers would lessen her dread 
of the usurper. 

“Will they be allowed?” asked Wilmer approving of the plan 
but fearing that the new master would object! 

Roma was willing to run the risk. The new master’s animos- 
ity seemed to be particularly aimed at the two Charlmontes and 
Mr. Ashford. She wished Calyx to try the effect of mesmerism 
on Mrs. Charlmonte, Calyx was very earnest in the belief that it 
would soothe, strengthen and restore her nervous system which 
was wofully shattered. If the usurper believed that he could 
benefit his wife’s health Roma thought there would be no objec- 
tion. The new master was gone to Richland for a few days, it 
was settled that the Calyx party should come that evening and 
get installed before his return. The guards were at the door but 
it was understpod that any visitors might enter except the two 
Charlmontes and Mr. Ashford. As to Wilmer, if the truth must 
be told, in his secret heart he could not, could not help feeling an 
almost rapturous joy as well as profound sympathy because of 
the changed prospects of the girl he loved, she was no longer an 
heiress, there was not now the great barrier of wealth between 
them, true there was the image of a handsome, haughty, loung- 
ing, indolent gentleman which too often came to cause Wilmer 
anxiety but so strong was his belief that the handsome, haughty, 
indolent gentleman would cease his attentions when he knew of 
the girl’s poverty that he felt confident on that score. Although 
Wilmer had not yet ventured to speak to Roma of his own hopes 
he was playing the pleasant part of a brother, giving brotherly 
advice, etc., and had ventured to remind her that she ought with- 
out delay candidly to inform her wooer that the fortune was 


164 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


stricken from her; this she had done almost immediately after 
they had failed to find a will. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE SINGLETONS ARE GRIEVOUSLY DISAPPOINTED 

Never was so handsome a gentleman more scurvily treated by 
that fickle jade, Misfortune, than Mr. Arthur Singleton. He suc- 
ceeded in borrowing the few thousands from old McFlint and for 
a while fortune smiled and cards turned up trumps to such a 
good purpose that he was enabled to make a large pay- 
ment on the note his sister held for money he had bor- 
rowed. With that insane confidence in luck common to gam- 
blers he had no doubt but that he would go on winning until he 
retrieved his losses. For a short while he was in the gayest 
spirits, lucky at cards, almost as good as engaged to a great heir- 
ess, the world was filled with sunshine. But sunshine does not 
last all the time, clouds gathered up, the cards took a turn 
and became devilishly malignant toward him, he not only lost all 
that he had won but all. that he had borrowed of old McFlint. 
Once bad luck set in it came in a flood, . creditors swarmed up im- 
patient, angry, insolent, never w r as an elegant gentleman more 
annoyed by vulgar tradesmen, boot makers, hatters, tailors, glov- 
ers, his landlady, each and all became persecuting enemies per- 
sistently dunning him for money ; they pursued him with sleep- 
less malignity, followed him on the street, besieged him in his 
rooms until life became a burden. At length he sought refuge 
with his sister and hid himself in her back parlor where he lay 
on the sofa all day long smoking cigars, sipping brandy and 
water and going over in his mind the games by which he would 
certainly win if he only had money to start with again, his face, 
meanwhile, gloomy and abstracted. His sister endeavored ta 
cheer him up by reminding him of the fair prospect ahead of set- 
tling himself on a fine Southern plantation, master of many 
slaves and a large income from sea-island cotton. She felt quite 
confident that the heiress would accept her brother after the first 
months of mourning were passed. The glowing widow Tubinger 
remained in blissful ignorance of the quasi engagement between 
the gentleman she admired and the elegant Island girl. Mrs. 
Singleton, from prudential motives had taken some pains to dis- 
sipate her suspicions in that direction and neglected no small 
chances that presented themselves of stimulating the widpw’s 
fancy for her brother by leading her to imagine that he greatly 
admired and esteemed the blooming widow herself. During Mr. 
Arthur’s hiding term in his sister’s apartments the widow' w-as a 
frequent visitor, she was given to understand that Arthur had 
overworked himself, writing too continuously on his book and 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


165 


that he was taking a rest under his sister’s wing. Never had 
that gentleman showed so much fondness for the society of the 
widow, he welcomed her with a smile and begged her to return 
on the morrow, they had friendly little games of cards 
every night, the widow putting up her money with gay good hu- 
mor and seemingly as well pleased to lose as to win. The stakes 
were small but small or large, lose or win, Mr. Arthur was eager 
for the excitement of play and eager for the society of the widow 
because it brought him that excitement. Mr. Sharpe was the ac- 
cepted suitor of Miss Mopson and usually came with his aunt. 
Miss Mopson did not like cards, while the others played she sat 
contentedly looking on, perfectly satisfied to be in the same room 
with her lover even though he only gave her a word now and 
then. When the young lawyer wished to mingle sentiment with 
cards he would request his lady-love to sit on the sofa and sing 
t-o the guitar while he played; Miss Mopson accepted it as a great 
mark of appreciation, notwithstanding that her little warbles 
were interrupted very frequently by the ejaculations, instruc- 
tions, comments and laughter of the players. Mr. Sharpe once 
privately told his lady-love that “cards were not proper for la- 
dies, only men — ha! rough men should play cards,” and ever 
after that Miss Mopson took secret pride and sweet satisfaction 
in the fact that she was never one of the party to play, she be- 
lieved that her lover looked upon her as much too ethereal and 
angelic to engage in the amusement of cards. 

“The female mind,” her lover said, his bold black eyes bent 
on her tearful little orbs, “is much too — ha! — too soft, too pure 
for cards — I hope you agree with me, Miss Melissa?” 

Miss Mopson agreed. 

A day or so afterward it happened that Mrs. Singleton had a 
headache, and declined taking a part in the game. Mr. Arthur 
called on his niece, Miss Melissa, who was sitting in an easy 
chair, her little hands idly folded in her lap, her little mind rev- 
eling in the rapturous belief that she was engaged to the most 
talented young gentleman on the face of the earth, as well as the 
handsomest. To his surprise and vexation Miss Melessa refused, 
and when asked for a reason, demurely replied, that in her opin- 
ion, cards were not proper things for ladies. 

Her uncle and aunt looked at her curiously. Mrs. Tubinger 
was amazed. 

“Good gracious me !” she cried, “Not proper! Why, what 
on earth’s got into M’liss. Do, Blacky, use your influence; we 
must have a game.” 

The widow had discovered that cards always held Mr. Arthur 
in the room; no cards, and he soon wearied of the ladies’ society, 
returned to his room, to read romances, or study the problems 
of chance. His sister would whisper to the widow that he was 
writing for dear life on his book. 

Mrs. Singleton patiently awaited the expected letter from Ro- 
ma the reply to the eloquent and ardent appeal Mr. Arthur had 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


m 

sent, begging the privilege of a visit to the Island. . It came one- 
day as Mr. Arthur was lying on the sofa, a novel in his hand,, 
but his mind still at work on that problem of chance; he was im 
search of the clue which would lead to success. The letter was 
put in his hand, he lazily looked it over before opening it; a sat- 
isfied, confident smile on his lips. He felt sure that the girl had 
yielded and was ready to fall into his arms. 

“Open it, Arthur,” said the impatient sister. 

Slowly he broke the seal, unfolded it and began to read ; his 
sister’s eyes were fixed upon him to read the character of the 
communication from the expression of his face. As he read a 
change came over that handsome face, the confident smirk died 
out, a cold, gray dullness stole in; his sister was alarmed. 

“What on earth is the matter, Arthur ? Is she dead?” she 
asked, hoarse with a great dread. 

“Dead? Yes!” he shouted, dashing the letter to the floor, 
“Dead to me ! — as dead as the deadest that ever died !” 

He strode up and down the room, his brows contracted, his 
lips twitching. 

Pale and trembling, his sister picked up the letter and read as 
follows : 

Ashcourt, Sept. 18th. 

Mr. Arthur Singleton: 

Dear Sir: — Your letter came some time ago. I meant to reply that 
very day, to speak to Mama, and explain all that you have said, and. 
show her your letters and ask permission to have you come to Ashcourt 
whenever you feel like visiting our part of the country. JBut, Alas ! be- 
fore that intention could be executed, indeed, almost the same moment 
it was formed, our household was plunged into such a sea of trouble as 
we never dreamed of. All of us are very unhappy, and are now in 
so miserable a situation that I have not yet ventured to speak to Mama 
on the subject you are so urgent for me to decide upon. Indeed, poor 
Mama is quite prostrated, and it requires all my time to attend to- 
iler — ” 

“What on earth does the girl mean?” muttered the reader, 
her own face growing whiter and whiter, as she read the omin- 
ous opening. 

“0, go on, go on !” sneeringly replied the gentleman, “Go on 
and see what devilish luck, always follows me.” 

Mrs. Singleton read on: 

“This is the first moment that I have been able to snatch from waiting 
on Mama, and I devote it to explaining to you my long silence. Mama is 
more calm and resigned to-day, and we have some hope that she will ral- 
ly and recover strength both of mind and body. But I must relate to you 
ail that has befallen us since I last wrote you. Perhaps you may remem- 
ber that 1 told you why Grandpapa was so anxious to see me before he 
left us forever, lie wished to explain to me why he left me the Ashcourt 
estate instead of to Mama, wh'o is his natural heir. Not because he loved 
me more than he did Mama — Oh ! no; but because a long time ago, when 
I was only three years old, Mama married a second time. The man she 
married proved to be very bad, a gambler, and rough and brutal in his 
manners, although he was of a very good family. It seems that the law 
gives a wife’s property immediately to her husband, and Grandpapa did 
not wish this bad man to have the power to gamble away his property 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


167 


therefore he put the property legally in my hands with instructions how 
to dispose of it for Mama’s benefit, that is, he told me this was the tenor 
of hid £ will, but no will can be found, consequently Mama is the heir, or 
rather 'he who claims to be her husband is the heir. He is here now, in 
control of everything. He behaves very badly toward Mama, refusing to 
let her have the carriage to visit her uncle’s. He declares that he in- 
tends to convert everything into money and leave the Island, and has be- 
gun to put his plan into execution, as you will see from the enclosed ad- 
vertisement, cut from a city paper. Thus you will see what trouble and 
grief we have, and excuse me if I do not write more satisfactory letters. 

I do not think a visit to us at this time would be pleasant for you, we are 
all too unhappy at the prospect of that dreadful auction. 

Mama is awake and wants me. With best love to your sister, I remain, 

Yours truly, 

Roma Charlmonte. 

For a moment Mrs. Singleton was speechless, the scheme she 
had built up so laboriously, was tumbled down like a house of 
cards. The letter dropped to the floor. She cast her eyes down, 
it lay beside the printed slip that had been enclosed. This was 
the advertisement of the great auction sale. Singleton saw the 
name, “Hillyard,” and broke out in fresh repinings. 

“Hillyard! By God!” he cried. “A regular blackleg! I 
know the fellow — he cheats at cards ! I met him in Europe, a 
noted gambler. What luck he has ! while I’m driven like a 
damned dog by a set of infernal harpies who track me night and 
day with their infernal duns !” 

Even while her brother was raging, the ready mind of his sister 
was busy with other schemes. . She fell back on the widow, 
determined to push matters in that direction. 

“The first thing to be done, Arthur,” she said, with recovered 
hope, “is to write a decent letter of condolence to the girl, full 
of sympathy, and all that, but you must let her know that every- 
thing is ended between you and her.” 

Mr. Arthur swore he would do no such thing, he had been 
bothered enough with the girl, he never wanted to hear from her 
again. 

His sister argued that it was the best way to get rid of her for- 
ever; the girl being now penniless and by no means pretty, 
might choose to hold him to an engagement, her relations might 
wish to dispose of her in that way. It was best to write a firm, 
quiet, decided, friendly note, and let her know, once for all, that 
the matter is ended. 

“But it is an infernal thing to do, and I don’t see the use of 
it ; a man never likes to own up in so many words that he was 
after a woman’s money.” 

.“You need not own any such thing; wait, I’ll write and you 
shall copy. 

The short, but significant letter was written and dispatched 
on its way. Half an hour later another violet scented little epis- 
tle was sent from the Singleton house, this last was to her dear- 
est friend, the dear Amelia, which ran as follows: 


168 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


Dear Amelia:— D o come over this evening; poor Arthur is feeling quite 
poorly and no one brightens him up as you do. What a blessing is your 
happy buoyancy of feeling ! So fresh, so girlish! For mv part, I know I 
am enough to mope poor Arthur to death. Don’t fail, I shall look for you, 
and so does my patient. Yours loyingly, 

. Catharine Singleton. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

WHICH THE READER MAY SKIP IF HE DOES NOT LIKE OUR YOUNG 
people’s VAGARIES. 

As Wilmer and Charlmonte had hoped, the presence of the 
Calyx party in Ashcourt served to break the dull monotony of 
Roma’s lile. It was a queer party, the theorizing, dreaming 
Calyx, the little, mild, say-nothing Keziah, the born lady who, 
to use her own phraseology, had been “born again” into a new 
life ; she was indeed revolutionized, made over as it seemed mor- 
ally and physically, religion was now the dominating power of 
her character, had she been a Catholic she would have gone into 
a convent and knelt on stones half the night, worn hair shirts 
and walked with peas in her shoes, had she been a man and 
Protestant in faith she would have become an evangelical revival- 
ist, as it was she became a sort of lay missionary, leading female 
prayer meetings and class meetings, visiting the sick, singing, 
praying and exhorting to repentance. Never had she found so 
fair a field for her labor as she found on the Island. The emo- 
tional negraes it gave her intense and fervent satisfaction to labor 
with. She felt a fervid and rapturous delight when she succeed- 
ed in working a negro audience up to the pitch of shouting, 
screaming and praying loudly for the “mercy of de Lord.” She 
became an immense favorite with the negroes of Ashcourt, visit- 
ing them in their cabins when they were sick, sitting by their bed 
sides, reading the Bible and praying with intense fervor. The lit- 
tle, kind Keziah preferred to sit with Mrs. Charlmonte and read 
to her the sermons they both thought it their duty to like. 

Charlmonte was prevented from visiting Ashcourt but it often 
happened that he saw his cousin on the beach. There were 
benches under the shade of the live oak trees on which the 
young people would sit and discuss matters, moral, political and 
religious. When Roma’s mother was well enough to permit her 
to get the fresh air Roma would resort to that favorite spot be- 
neath the green boughs of the water oaks, the wide sea spread 
out in the distance, she, Wilmer and Calyx, would give their 
opinions on the affairs of this troubled and misguided world with 
all the rash confidence of youth and inexperience. On one occa- 
sion Charlmonte, filled with patriotic fervor, broke out in 
eloquent praises of his country — its vast teritory, its power, 
the freedom of its people, etc., then he lauded the founders of our 
government, the noble old rebels who staked their lives and sa- 
cred honor on the chances of gaining freedom from British pow- 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


169 


er. This brought Roma out, she said it was all very well to give 
the founders of this government their just dues, they had done a 
commendable work in their day and age, but it would be far wiser 
if the men of America would stop singing peans of praises to our 
.forefathers long enough to begin seriously to consider what they 
had left undone that they should have done.” 

“What they left undone?” repeated Charlmonte in a tone and 
with a look as if Roma had uttered high treason against the mem- 
ory of the noble dead. 

“Yes,” replied Roma, “you must admit Ed, that they only 
half way established freedom in this country.” 

“Only half way ?” 

“Well perhaps I should say only one-quarter way.” 

“I do not see your drift.” 

“Can you say a people are free when one-half of the people are 
held in absolute subjection to the other half? Look at Mama, 
would you consider yourself free if you were in Mania’s posi- 
tion ? if the law stepped in and put you absolutely in the power 
of another as the law puts Mama ? if it took your property out of 
your hands and gave it to another ? Is that freedom?” 

“Surety you will admit that this is the best government in the 
world.” 

“Of course I admit that, but what does that prove except that 
other governments are worse than this ? When the Romans con- 
quered Britain and when the British rebelled against Roman 
power they rebelled against the best government there was on 
the face of the earth. The British founded a better. When the 
Colonies rebelled against England they rebelled against the best 
government on the face of the earth, but the Colonies founded a 
better — not vastly better but somewhat better.” 

“Come now, Roma, you are not just, there is a very vast differ- 
ence between the freedom of Americans and the freedom of En- 
glishmen.” 

“Yes, American men are freer than English men, but American 
women are no freer than English women, the women of both 
America and England, legally and politically, are as much slaves 
as the negroes of this country.” 

“I think,” said Wilmer, “that Americans have set out 
wrong.” 

“In what respect?” asked Charlmonte. 

“We start out with the idea that our government is not only 
the best and freest in the world — that much is correct, but we 
also hold that it is already perfect, that it needs no improve- 
ment, we make it our idol and fall down and worship it. On 
every fourth of July we hold a grand saturnalia of idolatrous wor- 
ship, we howl, we scream, we spread out our arms and throw up 
our hats and drink much bad whisky in idiotic patriotic tomfool- 
ery. Now all that sort of bosh only blinds the people and fits 
them to become unreasoning worshipers at the feet of Power and 
Place. They worship Government and think it highly patriotic 


170 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


they never stop to consider that government is nothing but the 
human agencies which move its machinery. When the French 
king said “I am the State” he described it exactly. What is our 
State but the men in power? the President, the Senators., the 
Congressmen, the heads of the army, the judiciary, etc. Strike 
all these into nothingness and we have left only a collection of 
families. When people are sufficiently civilized they will need 
no government, all the expensive paraphernalia of government 
we owe to our own ignorance and vice. When justice becomes 
the god of the people we will need no president, no policemen, 
no congress, no law. Behind the thing we call the State if we 
look, we will see the puppets that pull the wires, these puppets 
.are only men, always imperfect, often selfish, often vicious, men 
whose strongest desire is to perpetuate and increase the power 
they hold. At the bidding of these men we march to battle 
fields, up to cannon’s mouths, we kill and are killed by the mil- 
lions, all the time asses enough to fancy we are serving the 
State. We only serve the men who run the State. We fall 
down at the feet of these men and adulate the power they exer- 
cise under the name of government. We bray out after this 
fashion : 

THE AMERICAN PEOPLE’S PRAYER TO THE GOVERNMENT. 

Oh ! thou great and perfect creature! we admire and adore thy 
benificence. No other government on the face of the earth can 
equal thee. We prostrate our reason in the dust at thy sacred 
shrine. Thou art so grand, so beautiful, so powerful, so good, with 
one accord we unite to decry, deride, denounce and punish that 
man who dares to differ from this opinion. Should he resist thy 
power, we will brand him as rebel and traitor, we will cover his 
name with infamy and shoot or hang him. On the contrary the 
man who shouts thy praises, who seeks to enlarge and strengthen 
thy power, to give it eternal permanence we will hold 
as wise and great and worthy of thy highest places and largest 
salaries.” 

“In the name of common sense what are you talking of — What 
is your drift?” asked Charlmonte. 

“Do you not see in effect that is the way we Americans adulate 
that imperfect thing we call Government?” 

“Imperfect or not I do not see how you could better it.” 

“Ah ! if I only had the power.” 

“What would you do?” 

“In the first place I would do away with the idea of perma- 
nency. I would have the people educated in the idea that a 
progressive people outgrow their forms of government just as 
they outgrow any other custom or fashion of their ancestors, just 
as they outgrow their methods of dressing, of thinking, of mak- 
ing roads, of writing books, etc. Suppose the people of the sev- 
enteenth century claimed to dictate to the people of the eigh- 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


171 


leenth, the nineteenth, the twentieth and so on, for ten or & 
•dozen centuries, to establish the fashions of our garments, to 
•doom us to wear what they had worn, to read the same books 
they had read, write in the same style they wrote, build the same 
sort of houses they built, make the same sort of bridges and 
boats they made, use the same sort of machinery, eat the same 
food and take the same medicine, do you not see that such a state 
of affairs would stop the wheels of progress, would keep us at a 
dead stand still ? Governments grow up from the mentality of a 
people, is it wise for the superior mentality of the eighteenth 
century blindly to accept any work of the mentality of the pre- 
ceding centuries ? We would not, we do not accept their men- 
tality in any other form than that of government and religion, and 
governments and religions are always opposed to progress, al- 
ways^ endeavor to hold the people back, to tether them to the 
past instead of pushing them forward in broader fields of free- 
dom. All political freedom is gained in spite of governments, not 
by their aid ; all religious freedom has been gained in spite of the 
churches, not by their aid. The governments call those who are 
dissatisfied, who strike for larger political freedom, rebels ; the 
churches call those who are dissatisfied and who strive for larger 
religious freedom, heretics. The men who run the governments 
and the men who run the churches brand rebels and heretics 
with a brand. of infamy yet they are the best of the race, they 
have done the best service for humanity.” 

“You are not practical, Wilmer, you do not make one practi- 
cal suggestion. It is easy enough to find fault, not so easy to 
mend the faults.” 

“What do you look upon, Mr. Wilmer,” asked Roma, “as the 
most glaring defect of our government?” 

“It is all defective inasmuch as it is too close an imitation of 
•the government of England which we shed so much blood to get 
rid of.” 

“You are dreaming, Wilmer,” cried Charlmonte, “I see no 
Imitation whatever ; we got rid of a monarchy, we have a democ- 
racy ; we got rid of an aristocracy, we have equality ; we got rid 
of a king, we have a president.” 

“Let us be exact, Charlmonte, let us look closety at facts, your 
statement is only partially true. The word democracy means a 
government by the people and for the people — the whole people, 
not a privileged part, does it not?” 

“Certainly.” 

“Then America is only a degree or so more democratic than 
[Britain. England is partially democratic, so is America, we go 
a little further than England that is all. We have millions of 
people in America with not one particle more freedom than 
many millions of the British possess. We have not a monarchy 
•or an oligarchy but a sexarchy — that is, a partial sexarchy which 
runs the government. If democracy means a government of the 
whole people you must admit that we can lay no claim to the 


172 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


name when less than half of the people may take part in the 
government.” 

“Less than half? I do not see it,” said Charlmonte. 

“It is as plain as A B C, half of the people of this country are- 
women, they are held in a more degrading subjection than our 
forefathers were to the British government; then we have a few 
millions of blacks in the same condition. Yes, our forefathers 
made an advance toward freedom but they went only a few steps 
they too closely imitated the government they had been educated 
to look upon as the best on the earth. Our president is in the 
place of the monarch they abandoned ; a president is something 
better than a king inasmuch as his teim is limited, his office 
elective and his pay less than a king’s. Our Senate stands in the 
place of the House of Lords but is an improvement on the House 
of Lords, inasmuch as Senators are elected and their office limit- 
ed. Although our president’s salary is small when compared 
with a king’s it is enormous when compared with a hard work- 
ing artisan’s or mechanic’s; this is contrary to the theory of equal- 
ity on which our government is founded. As long as honest men 
work hard from day dawn until dark for one or two dollars a day 
we have no right to pay any man $25,000 per annum which is 
$168 per day for the easiest, pleasantest and most honorable 
work a man can do. Nor should the general of an army receive 
so much more honor, respect and money than a private, if the 
private does his duty he deserves as much recognition as the of- 
ficer. This vast difference we make is simply a part of the spirit 
of monarchy yet left in us. The theory of our government is 
that all men are political equals, that our officials, from the high- 
est to the lowest, are our servants. The kingly theory is that 
some men are born to rule and others born to obey, that the of- 
ficers in power, from the highest to the lowest, are superior to 
the people. We are the descendants of Englishmen trained in 
that false idea that military and civil officers deserve great hom- 
age from the people, we have not yet divested ourselves of that 
idea, we naturally fall at the feet of the man in power although 
we ourselves put him there, the moment he is in power we begin, 
to adulate, we take off our hats and shout if we see him pass by r 
we gather in crowds to stare at him as if he were more than mor- 
tal, in short we make of ourselves the most consummate asses on 
the face of the earth, we make pretense of believing a thing we 
do not believe.” 

Before Charlmonte could reply to this a shower drove the par- 
ty to the house. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

DOLLY SUGGESTS A WAY TO SETTLE THE USURPER. 

One morning The tty ran into her young mistress’ room, her 
eyes wide open with astonishment, to announce — 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


17a 


“Dar was a pusson wanted to see Miss Roma.” 

Roma looked up apprehensively, she had given Thetty strict 
instructions to let no one intrude — fears of the new master ever 
haunted her mind, fear that he would push himself into her 
mother’s room. Thetty saw and understood the look of dread 
in her young mistress’ face. 

“No, no, Miss Roma,” she said, “it ain’t him. You so pint- 
edly ’structs me for to let nary soul come in, fo’ I tells you who 
’tis, so I wouldn’ let her in, which makes her most awful mad, 
it do.” 

“Who is it, Thetty ?” 

A broad grin broke over Thet’s black face. 

“Laws, Miss Roma, hit ain’t nobody ’ceptin’ ole Dolly Char- 
mon ! Old Dolly’s done come home from de Norf.” 

“Bring her in, Thetty.” 

Thetty departed, and almost instantly returned with our old 
friend Dolly, her head adorned with the gayest and tallest of 
turbans, her dress clean and neat, her face at first frowning and 
glowering , became radiant and joyous at the sight of the young 
girl whom she clasped in her arms and squeezed with rapturous- 
force. 

“Lor’! Lor’! honey!” she cried, after releasing Roma and 
stepping back a pace or two, the better to gaze upon her face 
and form. “Lor’! Lor’! honey ! I’s dat glad to see you agin,. 
I is dat — sho !” 

“When did you arrive, Dolly ?” asked Miss Charlmonte. 

“Jes dis blessed minute, honey — jes dis blessed — ” 

A swift change came over the black face, a wondering, amazed, 
dazed astonishment. Her little, beady eyes were fixed and 
staring upon the lady called Madame Thebidoux, and who Dolly 
had called the “bawn lady” when she found her in prison. That 
lady, fair, serene, calm as a May morning, sat by the window, 
engaged in some sort of needle work. Madame Thebidoux was 
not fond of reading or of conversation ; she would not read for 
pleasure, on the contrary, she always selected sermons, or other 
religious works, and read as a matter of duty. Consequently 
she did not read much, and when in the house busied herself 
with a needle. 

“Lor’! Lor’!” muttered Dolly, her mind reverting to that 
prison scene, to the appearance of the born lady then, and her 
appearance now. “Lor’! Lor’! ef dis don't beat my time! hit do!” 

The born lady lifted her calm eyes and recognized the negress 
with undisturbed serenity. 

“What is it, Dolly? What beats your time?” asked Miss 
Charlmonte. 

“I am glad to see you, Dolly, I hope you are well,” said the 
born lady, offering her hand in a friendly, unembarassed way, 
which had the effect of recalling Dolly’s presence of mind. 

She saw the course she ought to take and took it. She greet- 
ed the born lady with effusive gladness. 


174 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


“Lor’! Lor’! Is dis you? Sho nuff you, an’ nobody else? 
Well, well, ef hit aint ernuff to set de wus sinner in de wul a 
shoutin’ ‘Glory hallujah ! Glory hallujah !” 

The refrain was sung out with fervid enthusiasm. Dolly, 
standing off at some little distance, clapped her hands with 
fervor. 

“So you have found an old friend in the lady,” said Miss 
Charlmonte. 

“Lor’! Miss Roma.” said the negress, turning to the girl with 
a serious face, “I knowed of her afoah she was dis high (holding 
her hand about four feet from the floor). She was on’y a little 
chunk of a gal when I went to lib wid her ma. Don’t you ’mem- 
ber, Miss Roma,” continued the negress, seating herself on a 
stool directly in front of Miss Charlmonte, planting her elbows 
on her knees, propping her face up in her two hands, with her 
head craned forward and her countenance solemnly earnest. 
“Don’t you ’member a hearin’ o’ dat summer I went ’way from 
de Islan’ to de White Suffer Springs, in ole Virginny? You 
was a little gal den, ’bout so high, Miss Roma (indicating the 
height from the floor by a gesture of her black hand). Yes, you 
was a little slip of a gal den, nigh ’bout ’leven or twelve years 
ole, Miss Roma, an’ Miss ” Here Dolly looked hesitating- 

ly at the born lady, doubtful whether she ought to speak her 
name out or not. 

“Blaine,” suggested the lady indicated, coming to her relief, 
with great serenity. “Blaine was my name at that time. I am 
called Madame Thebidoux now.” 

“Miss Silla Blaine, Lors, honey ! I knows yo name same as I 
knows Miss Roma’s. An’ Miss Silla’ s pa was monsus rich den, 
wid his kerrige an’ fine hosses, at de White Suffer Springs, and 
dars whar I get ’quainted wid ’em, an’ dey up an’ ax me to go 
wid ’em home, to wait on Miss Silla an’ de chilluns in New Yok, 
an’ I went ’long wid ’em, an’ lib wid ’em nigh ’bout two year ; 
an’ dat’s how I come to know Miss Silla dar, an’ I’s so monsus 
glad to see her now— I is dat, sho ! — ’pearin’ sojnonsus well an’ 
scrimptous, same as in dem good ole times when I usent to 
comb her har when she rid out in her pa’s kerrige.” 

“I’m sure,. Dolly,” replied Miss Charlmonte kindly, “we are 
both glad to see you, and I hope you are glad to get back among 
your own people after your travels.” 

“Miss Roma,” said the negress, with an air of solemn serious- 
ness, craning her head out toward the young lady, her little eyes 
fixed earnestly upon her, with an air of imparting information of 
the deepest moment, “Miss Roma, dar aint no place like dis yer 
Islan’ home. Dem dar Yankee towns ’ll do to stop at an’ look 
at a day or two, but dey aint de sort ob place for to lib in all de 
time. By no manner ob means, dey aint. Sech a lot o’ po’ 
white trash as libs in dem Yankee towns, Miss Roma, you neber 
seed in all yo’ bawn days in dis part o’ de country, an’ dat’s 
■what goes agin de grain o’ fust-quality white ladies wid dark- 


BLA CK AND WHITE. 


175 


cbmplected skins, sech as suvans o* dis Islan’ is. Hit do, Miss 
Roma, hit do.” 

This emphatic and repeated assertion was called forth by the 
half smile she saw' in the young girl’s face, which she construed 
as indicating incredulity. 

Considering that Dolly had spent five or six years in a North- 
ern city, only indulging in occasional visits to her Island home, 
it was not surprising if the story of rasped feelings was received 
with a few grains of skepticism. 

“Then, Dolly,” said the girl, “we hope that you have come 
hack to stay, you won’t return to those po’-white-trash cities 
again?” 

“My presen’ intention, Miss Roma,” returned the negress, 
still with the air of imparting the most momentous information, 
“is ter get Mas Ed’rd for ter build me a comf’able little cabin in 
•de fur corner ob de peach ochid, an’ dar I means to settle down 
till old Master call me to de mansion in de skies, what He pre- 
pars for dem dat seek de salvation ob de Lord, and ’beys his 
wud on de earf, an’ raise chickens an eggs, an’ sell ’em to de 
gret-us.” 

“Gret-us” being negro contraction of great house, the appella- 
tion bestowed by the blacks on their master’s mansion. 

Miss Charlmonte expressed approval of this plan and wanted 
to know what “Mas Ed’rd” said to it. 

“Lor’ bless you, honey,” cried Dolly, breaking into a jubilant 
grin, “I aint laid eyes on none on ’em yet; nary ole Mas Ed’rd 
or young Mas Ed’rd hab I sot eyes on yet. You see, honey, I’s 
jes dis blessed minute landed on dis blessed Islan’ often de boat, 
an’ aint been nigh Charmon’ Hall yet.” 

“And you haven’t had any talk with the Charlmonte or Ash- 
court people ?” 

“Nary soul is I seed, ccptin’ dat ar imperent Thet, which 
when I lef’ de Islan’ warn’t no more’n trundle-bed trash, an’ 
now yer she comes ’long as stuck* up as you please, ’fusin’ me — 
’fusin’ to let me come up to Miss Roma’s room, ’dout she comes 
up first a ’nouncin’ me, which I telled her for her sass, she was 
a imperent huzzy, which I had a great mine for to turn ober my 
knee and gib a good spankin’ — Dolly don’t need no ’nouncin’ to 
nobody on dis yer Islan’.” 

While delivering this, Dolly’s little viperish eyes darted 
flames at the offending Thet, who clutched her mouth with one 
hand to check the unruly giggles that bubbled out at the sight of 
Dolly’s indignation. 

Miss Charlmonte replied that she was always glad to see Dolly 
and Dolly could always come straight up to her room, but that 
Thetty was not altogether to blame, having had instructions to 
let no one in without first announcing the name. 

“Mama is so sick, Dolly, and we have had so much trouble of 
late, we must keep things as quiet as possible,” said Roma. 

“I knowed it wasn’t you, Miss Roma,” returned the negress, 


176 


■BLACK AND WHITE. 


her feelings not yet mollified toward the' “trundle-bed trash , ,r 
that went by the name of the illustrious mother of the brave 
Greek. “I knowed well ’nuff it was nuffin but the imperence 
o’ dat good-fur-nothin’ Thet.” 

‘Ah !” replied the the girl, sadly, we must not be too hard on 
poor Thet. She will have trouble enough before she is much 
older.” 

“What trouble’s Thet gwine to hab, Miss Roma?” asked the 
negress, with interest. 

“You have not yet heard of the great trouble that has come to 
Ashcourt ?” 

“I’s heerd o’ ole Mas Harry’s bein took home; but, Miss Ro- 
ma, Mas Henry he was ready to go when de good Lord call him. 
Mas Henry he made his peace wid de Lord same time I corned 
frew, an’ jine de church; me an’ Mas Henry bofe b’longed to de* 
same church. Mas Henry’s gone home to glory, Miss Roma. 
Hit aint fitten fur Christians to mummah at de good Lord’s- 
work.” 

Seeing that Dolly knew nothing of the other great calamity 
that had come to Ashcourt, Roma briefly stated the case. When 
she spoke of the danger the negroes were in of being sold and 
scattered over the earth, the girl’s tears flow r ed,and the sympa- 
thetic negresss wept with her. When the recital was finished, 
and the white and the black faces were wiped of the tears that 
wet them, the negress seemed to sink into a deep and profound 
cogitation ; her turbaned head wagged from side to side, and her 
little beady eyes took on a singular look. After a minute or t\Vx> 
of deep thinking, the head ceased wagging, and craned itself out 
nearer and nearer to the pale face of the young girl. 

“Miss Roma,” she began, in a whisper, with an air of mys- 
terious solemnity, “dat ar’ man’s too oudacious to be ’lowed to- 
live and breave on dis yer yarf. He aint fitten for dis yer wul. 
Mawk my wuds, Miss Roma (slowly, and with imposing solem- 
nity, shaking her turbaned head from side to side, her little eyes- 
burning upon the girl), mawk my wuds, dat ar’ man aint fitten 
to live. He aint no more business a livin’ on dis yer yerf dan a 
wild bar, or a wild painter (panther) — he aint dat I” 

Then, after a pause of profound reflection, her little, viperisb 
eyes all the time fixed intently upon the girl, who listened pa- 
tiently. Dolly resumed, her voice sunk to a still lower whis- 
per. 

“Miss Roma, you jes speak de wud, an’ dis niggah ’ll settle- 
dat ar’ oudacious man’s hash in mons’us quick time — mine me f 
she will! — gympsom seed ’ll do it,” she added with an air of 
deep satisfaction that so convenient a substance presented itself 
— that poisonous weed growing abundantly in the corners of the 
fences. “Jes drap a han’ful o’ gympsom in his soup— it’ll settle 
him. Rat pizen ’ll do it — drap a pinch in de coffee pot. Miss 
Roma, dat man’s a sufferin for a pinch o’ rat pizen — he is dat — 
bad!” 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


177 


The girl’s mind was slow to take in the meaning of the ne- 
gress’ proposition. So absorbed with her own griefs, so little 
looking for anything of a serious nature from Dolly, she only lis- 
tened with a half-attention and wandering thoughts, and, even 
after she really understood Dolly’s proposition, it did not arouse 
the horror and distrust that she would have felt had a white per- 
son made it. She had such faith in Dolly’s kindness of heart, and 
was so tolerant of her eccentricities, that she hardly looked up- 
on her as amenable to the same lines and laws that regulated 
other lives and other thoughts. Nevertheless, though not feek 
ing that the negress was really capable of so wicked a deed, the 
girl set herself very earnestly to work to do away with such 
ideas^ 

“No, no, Dolly,” she said, “that will never do — never! That' 
•would be an awful, awful crime. Do you not remember that the 
good book says, 'thou sh alt not kill’?” 

“I ’members, Miss Roma, I ’members; hut dat ar’ man — 
Miss Roma, he’s a sufferin’ fur a little pinch o’ rat pizen, sho’.” 

Roma became more earnest in her arguments. 

“Do you not know, Dolly, that if the good God wanted this 
bad man killed he would do it himself?” 

“I knows dat, honey, I knows dat ; but dis yer oudacious man, 
Miss Roma, he aint fittento live.” 

“He must live, Dolly, until God himself sees fit to end his 
life. It would be highly presumptuous in us, as well as awfully 
wicked, to interfere with the Creator’s laws. You see that, 
don’t you, Dolly ?” 

“Miss Roma,” replied the negress, after a moment of sage re- 
flection over the moral problem thus presented to her mind, 
“hit do seem sorter dat way, I mus’ perfess; yet, somehow or 
nuver, Miss Roma, my mine ’pears to see dat dat man’s a suffer- 
in’ fur a little pinch o’ rat pizen in his coffee, or a little han’ful 
o’ gvmpsom seed biled up in his soup, which would gib him 
ease o’ de debil dat’s in him, what sets him on to such oudacious 
meanness, which, Miss Roma, you can’t help seein’ fur yo’sef, 
would be a mons’us good fur all dese Ashcote niggahs, fur to git 
him outen de way. Dey don’t want to be druv from der homes 
an’ der fokes, Miss Roma, an’ dat man, he’s got no business a 
druvin’ of ’em, he aint none o’ deir master. Hit do seem sorter 
bofe ways. Miss Roma.” 

Dolly added this last by way of an amiable concession to the 
white girl’s judgment. 

“I perfess hit do seem sorter bofe ways.” 

“Oh ! Dolly, Dolly !” cried the girl, growing desperately in 
earnest, when she found the negress so fixed in her. idea of the 
right and justice of putting the enemy out of the way by poison. 
“You must not think that ! You must not talk that ! You do 
not know how wicked, how dreadfully wicked it is ! Ask 
the lady (turning to the 'born lady’). She is a good, pious lady, 
hear what she will say about it.” 


178 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


Then the girl explained to Madame Thebideaux how the case 
stood, and what Dolly had advised, and begged her to speak to’ 
Dolly on the subject. 

The born lady dropped her needle work and took up the 
subject, treating it altogether from a religious standpoint. Sim 
told Dolly that it was the devil tempting her. It was the devil 
that put such thoughts into her head, the devil who was striving 
to lead her soul to eternal torment. 

“Oh!” cried the born lady, clasping her hands with fervent 
earnestness, “Oh ! Dolly, Dolly ! it is the devil himself that 
puts such thoughts in your heart. He wants to drag you down 
to the flames of Hell ! I know — Oh ! I know how he tempts 
weak sinners. Since I left you, Dolly, that night on the street, 
my sins have been washed away — washed white in the blood of 
the Lamb ! 0, the unspeakable happiness of serving the Lord! 

Oh ! the rapture of doing his will ! I have trampled Satan un- 
der my feet ! I have, put my hand to the plow-share and will 
never turn back ! Beware ! beware of the evil spirit seeking the 
ruin of your soul ! ’ ’ 

All this and much more, poured out with great fervor, deeply 
impressed the negress. She thought it very fine. The tears 
trickled down her black cheeks. Her whole soul warmed up 
with religious ecstacy. 

“Bless de Lord !” she cried, “Bless de good Lord! Oh ! Miss 
Silla! (graspin the born lady’s hand with affectionate fervor) 
Oh ! Miss Silla! I’s dot ’ejoiced you’s corned frough ! I neber 
knowed you got ’ligion fo’ dis blessed minute. Bless de Lord 
for his mussies ! (shaking the ‘born lady’s’ hand with great 
force) He am fetch you from triberlation and from trials ! He- 
arn wash you clean in de blood ob de Lamb ! Glory to God ! I 
feels like shoutin’, Miss Silla ! I’s mose as happy as ef I’d got 
’ligion ober again, which dar aint no use o’ doin’, becaze whem 
sinnahs git de puah, reveren’, sho’-nuff, hit’s gwine ter las’ ’em 
plum till dey Ian’s safe an’ soun’ in ole Mas Ab’am’s buzzum.” 

This happy diversion of Dolly’s feelings pretty effectually ban- 
ished her lawless ideas with regard to the use of “rat pizen” and 
“gympsom-seed soup.” 

Shortly afterward Dolly took her departure in a comfortable 
frame of mind, announcing her intention of going to Richland 
“an’ gettin’ a good look at dat ar’ oudacious, po’, low-down 
white man what had the imperence to come a settin’ hisse’f up 
as de master o’ dese Ashcote fokes— he as wasn’ fitten ter tie ole 
Mas Henry’s shoes, dat he wasn’!” 

As she strolled through the lawn on her way to Charlmonte 
Hall, to interview her old and young masters, father and son, 
she lifted up her voice and poured out her soul in fervid song,. 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


179 * 


her religious feelings finding expression in that good old 5 
hyimv. 

“Hawk !* from de tomb a do’ful soun’, 

My eahs atten’ de cry; 

Come, all you niggahs, view de groun’ 

Whar you will snawtly lie !- ? 

And so on, through all the veres until she met an old acquaint- 
ance, whom she greeted with effusive joy and engaged in a 
newsy, gossiping chat. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

THE NEGRO AUCTION COMES OFF. — THE ASHCOURT NEGROES IN DEEP 
TRIBULATION. 

The auction sale was to take place on the Ashcourt lawn. A 
beautiful spot was selected, a plank platform made for the auc- 
tioneer to stand upon while crying off his chattels. Plank bend- 
ers were set in rows in front of the platform, which arrangement 
was bitterly resented by the negroes as savoring of a sacrilegious 
character. 

“Fur all de wul,” said Mammy Rose, eyeing the platform and 
benders with pious indignation, “for all de wul, hit’s jes like a 
preachin’ place; dat stan’ dar fur de preacher, an’ dem benches 
fur de congregation to set on; It’ll bring down a judgment on 
dat man, you see if it don’t.” 

“Ole Satan, de preacher, ’ll preach on dat stan’,” replied Tal- 
lyrand, with a gloomy brow, his broad, brown face had lost all of 
its old-time gaiety. “An’ hit ’pears like, Rose,” he continued, 
reflectively, “hit do ’pear like de een o’ de wul is nigh at han’, 
an’ de judgment day is mos yer — hit do ’pear dat way to my 
'mine.” 

There had indeed been a fearful agitation going on in the Af- 
rican mind since the advent of the new master, and especially 
since the auction sale of negroes had been advertised. The ques- 
tion that kept them on the rack of anxiety was, which among 
them would be sold. The advertisement said “Twenty-five in 
number,” but whether that twenty-five would be men or women, 
field or house people, no one knew. It had come to be generally 
believed that Tallyrand would certainly be one of the fated 
twenty-five. 

“He’ll be sho to jek you up, Tally,” said Mammy Rose, “he’s 
jes’ dat mean an’ spiteful ; he’ll jek you up jes’ becaze ole Mas 
Henry wouldn’t let him sell you fifteen year ago, you jes see ef 
. he don’t.” 

At an early hour on the day of the sale quite a shoal of boats 
came over from the mainland, bringing rather a rough crowd to 


* Hark. 


180 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


the auction. Negro traders from far and near came to the sale. 
Not a planter was among them. Those proud old planters of the 
South persistently avoided the sight of anything disagreeable 
-connected with the institution of slavery. They would not look 
upon any but its best and pleasantest features." They saw that 
numbers of negroes lived under masters who liked and kindly 
treated their slaves, they endeavored to persuade their slaves 
that it very, very seldom happened that negroes were ill treated 
or made unhappy by their condition. All the good 
and kindness and comfort they were willing to see and 
boast of, and, with wondrous unanimity, every planter pretended 
to believe that slaves were the happiest people on the earth. 
Nothing could induce a planter to look on the other side of the 
institution. They would not open their eyes to the fact that it 
often happened that slave families were torn asunder, and slave 
hearts were wrung with sorrow; they would not consider the fact 
that the very worst of men often became the masters of slaves 
and might delight in tormenting. 

Shall we so severely condemn this one-sidedness of the plant- 
ers? Do we not all act the same way, even yet? We look 
around and see great numbers of women living as queens, in lux- 
urious homes, with fathers or husbands, whose every energy of 
mind and body is exerted in their service, and we pretend to 
think the condition of all almost as fair .and flowery. We take 
no account of the thousands and thousands of women who have 
no husbands, or fathers to furnish them with good homes; or the 
housands and thousands having husbands who are a hundred 
times wose off than with none. In the discussion of the question 
of the hardships resulting from the subjection of women, nine 
men out of ten believe, or affect to believe, that women are hap- 
py enough in their subjection, just as the old planters of the 
South believed, or affected to believe, that negroes were per- 
fectly happy in slavery. 

On the day of the great auction in Charlmonte lawn, the ne- 
groes were too anxious and unhappy to keep at work ; they 
crowded up to the house and called for their young mistress. 
Roma was painfully affected. She went out to them, her face 
stained with tears. She told them she w r as powerless to help 
them, that she, as well as they, were slaves, and helpless to re- 
sist the power that oppressed. 

It was in such emergencies that the “born lady” came for- 
ward with flying colors. She exhorted them with great fervor 
to put their trust in the Lord. He would sustain, he would lead 
them through the valley and shadow of death, he had said every 
hair of their heads was numbered, he permitted this great trial 
for their own good, perhaps to work out their eternal salvation, 
etc., etc., until she got them worked up to such a high pitch of 
religious excitement, they marched out to the auction stand sing- 
ing hymns in a loud voice and with great fervor. 

Wilmer was not on the Island, he had been called home to his 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


181 


mother, who was ill. Charlmonte shut himself up in Chari - 
monte Hall with his father. 

“If I were to go to Ashcourt,” he said to his father, who sug- 
gested that he ought to go to sustain Roma and her mother un- 
der the cruel trial, “I might do or say something to that man — 

I would like to throttle him. Besides, Roma and Constance in- 
tend to shut themselves in with Aunt Caroline.” 

Calyx, who was intent on observing every phase of slavery, 
announced his determination to witness the sale. 

Daddy Dick, Tallyrand’s father, who felt great uneasiness, 
caused by the fear that Tallyrand would be among the fated 
twenty-five, was one of the first on the spot. His granddaugh- 
ter, Thetty, brought him a chair, and he sat under a tree, a little 
to one side, but in full view of the stand. The old man looked 
as if he were in the low deeps of melancholy, in all his long 
life, he had never before witnessed a scene like this. He shook 
his old head and groaned aloud, and coincided with his son Tal- 
ly’s opinion, that it “’peared like de een o’ de w r ul was nigh at 
han’.” 

Hillyard was in a painful stress ; for some time past he had 
suffered sleepless anxiety — he felt that he was in the midst of 
enemies, who hated and despised him, enemies who would look 
upon his death as the best boon that could befall them. The 
glowering faces of the blacks, their scowling glances as they pass- 
ed him by, their slow and unwilling obedience, filled him with 
dread. For two weeks he had never stepped out without the at- 
tendance of the two white guards, rough sailors, armed to the 
teeth, who walked and rode by his side wherever he went, and 
slept at his door. This arrangement greatly intensified the 
scorn and contempt already aroused in the breasts of the blacks. 

When the negro traders from the city arrived they gathered in 
a group around Hillyard and his two guards to discuss the best 
way to seize the twenty-five negroes wanted for the auction. Hill- 
yard had to make the humiliating confession that he had, thus 
far, hesitated to get up the gang of negroes he meant to sell. 

“The damned niggers,” he said, “were in such a state of sulk, 
I had to put it off to the last minute. 

“You think they’ll cut up a row, eh?” asked one trader, 
squirting tobacco juice from his tobacco-stained lips. 

“Row ? Who the devil cares for a nigger row ?” cried another 
trader. “One white man— the half of a white man, who can’t 
squelch a nigger row with a cow-hide w'hip ought to pull off his 
pants, put on a fianrn 1 petticoat and set in the chimney corner 
for the rest of his days. Come on, Hillyard, I’m not afeerd of 
niggers. I’ll bet you my bottom dollar I’ll get up your gang in 
half an hour, and they won’t squeak, either— just show me your 
men, point ’em out. "i know how to manage niggers.” 

The auctioneer was instructed to open the ball with the cattle. 
While the people were making bids for horses and cows, Hill- 
yard, his two guards, and the half dozen negro traders, were to 


182 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


get up the negroes to be sold. They went to the house, into the 
dining room, Damon brought hot coffee and a bottle of brandy; 
the men drew up around a small table, drank coffee laced with 
brandy, and talked in low tones. 

Damon waited and watched with a gloomy brow. Thetty hov- 
ered around the door, anxiously questioning Damon about the 
dreadful men, when he came out for hot water, or more cof- 
fee, not that these petted servitors had any fears on their own ac- 
count, they felt safe in the idea that “Miss Calline and Miss Ro- 
ma wouldn’ ’low them to be toched.” Thetty feared on her fath- 
er’s account, it had been generally conceded by the whole black 
population that Tallyrand would be among those put up for sale. 

The traders, with an e} r e to business, had critically observed 
Damon. 

“That’s a likely fellow,” said one, pouring into his second cup- 
of coffee a few spoonfuls of brandy. “He’s a fine w r aiter at table- 
— will you put him up, Hillyard?” 

“If you’ll give me a good bid on him. Damned if I care 
which goes up, so I get the money, though there’ll be a devil of 
a row if we take these high and mighty house servants. They’d 
as well get used to it, for they’ll all go before I get through with 
them. I don’t like this hum-drum life on a plantation, the city 
is more to my notion. I’d die of the dolefuls here in a year.” 

“Put him up. I’ll give you a good bid on him,” said the tra- 
der. 

“How’d you like a likely house-maid? They're a pair of lovers 
— sell one, sell t’other,” said Hillyard. 

“Trot her in — let’s have a look at her,” returned the trader, 
warmed up by the coffee and brandy. 

Damon here came in with a pitcher of hot water. Hillyard 
ordered him to send Thetty, to take out the coffee cups— 
they were going to make a bowl of punch. Thetty obeyed, curi- 
ous to get a sight of the dreadful men, yet sullen and resentful 
at having to wait upon such “low-down trash.” 

“Will she suit?”arked Hillyard, when Thetty and Damon 
had retreated with the cups. 

The trader thought he’d risk her, he knew a party who’d give 
a fair price for a good chambermaid. 

“We’ll have a h 1 of a time getting them to the auction 

block,” said Hillyard, an anxious frown contracting his browns. 

“You’ll all have to lend a hand. You see, these d d blacks 

haven’t yet got it into their thick skulls that I am their master. 
I’ll settle that point with ’em to-day, I reckon; when I get a few 
thousands in my pocket from the sale of ’em, they’ll begin to- 
know who they belong to.” 

A murmured whispering was heard in the hall near the dining 
room door. One of the traders pricked up his ears and said he 
had several pairs of good bracelets in his pockets — there was 
nothing like bracelets to bring a nigger to his senses — soon as 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


183 


they’re clapped on, a nigger tames down. 

“Gentlemen,” said Hillyard, rising from the table, “if you 
want these two, we must nab ’em right away. They’re out there 
now confabbing together — three of us must go out at this door, 
the other three at that; we’ll surround ’em, clap on the brdfce- 
lets, and the job’s done.” 

This strategy was put into execution. When the half-dozen 
men rushed upon the dusky lovers, their woolly heads were bent 
close together in whispered talk, his arm was around her waist, 
but their thoughts were not on love-making at that moment. 
They were discussing the dreadful looks of the men in the dining 
room. In a flash — quick as a stroke of lightning, the two lovers 
were in the firm grasp of strong men, handkerchiefs clapped on 
their mouths, and handcuffs on their wrists. So sudden was the 
shock that both seemed to lose all strength, their limbs became 
limp and nerveless as rags, and gave way under them, they sank 
to the ground, but were jerked up and held up by the men. 

Hillyard’s cold, malignant eyes had a dangerous gleam in 
them. 

“Come,” he cried fiercely, “don’ play the d d fool in that 

way ! It won’t be good for you ! Stand up on your legs, d n 

you !” 

“We’re not goin’ to eat you, don’t be afeard !” said one of the 
traders encouragingly. 

“Give ’em a pull of the brandy,” suggested another trader, 
“brandy’ll bring ’em to.” 

“A touch o’ cow-skin’ll warm ’em up,” said one of the w r hite 
guards, who had felt himself the mark for so many scornful, con- 
temptuous, and biting glances from the. negroes’ eyes, during 
ther attendance on Hillyard, a great deal of spite was engender- 
ed in. his heart, and he seized the chance to vent it on the help- 
less blacks. 

The poor creatures were dragged into the dining room and 
forced to swallow a mouthful of brandy, but even that powerful 
stimulant did not seem to restore nervous strength to their limp 
legs. When the white hands were removed from them, down 
they sank to the floor, their heads hanging on their breasts. They 
were lifted up and put in two chairs. Hillyard stood before them, 
his angry eyes glaring. 

“Now listen !” he said fiercely. “Hold your heads up and 
listen!” 

The two heads were lifted up by one of the white men, then- 
eyes rolled, their mouths gasped for breath, but the moment the 
white support was gone down dropped the heads, and the two 
black bodies seemed ready to sink in a crushed heap on the 
floor. Hillyard was in a rage. 

“D n you ! can’t you listen ?” he said. “I’m your mas- 

ter— you can’t get away ! Remember that ! There’s no power to 
come between you and me — I’m going to sell you — I’m going to 
sell the last nigger of the Ashcourt estate. You are eating off' 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


184 

your heads here. Now, if you’ll behave yourselves and give me 

no trouble, by ! I’ll" sell you to a good master, if you put 

on airs and raise a row, by ! you’ll catch h 1 ! Now 

ccmeon!” 

This spirited address certainly did not meet with the success it 
deserved. The two blacks were dragged to the auction block on 
the lawn between the four white men, who held them up all the 
way. They were set down on a bench, under the eyes of two 
white men," and ordered not to budge. By a series of similar 
strategies a number of negroes were captured and placed by the 
side of Thet and Damon, Tallyrand among them. 

When Daddy Dick saw his son and granddaughter in this 
painful predicament, the tears rolled down his wrinkled, brown 
cheeks. Rising slowly, the old man trudged up to where Tally- 
rand sat in the row with the other doomed slaves; he laid his 
hand on his son’s broad shoulder. 

“Bar up, Tally,” he said, trembling with age and grief, “bar 
up, my boy: put yo’ trus’ in de Lawd, Tally — lie am de way an’ 
de ’spote (support).” 

A deep groan was all the answer poor Tally could give; the 
tears rolled down his broad cheeks. 

The old man laid his hand on his granddaughter’s shoulder, 
but spoke no words — words were inadequate. When describing 
his feelings after the severe ordeal was over, Daddy Dick said : 

“It ’peared like de bery bottom ob de yarf itse’f was droppin’ 
out, an’ de whole wul was a sinkin’ down to whar dar is gnash- 
in’ o’ teef an’ weepin’ an’ wailin’ in de pitch dawk, wid Satan 
an’ his set, down in de lake o’ suffer (sulphur)an’ melted lead.” 

The white men crowded close up around the autioneer, the 
negroes crowded around the white men, all more or less agitated 
and disturbed. Some of the women wept aloud, but Hillyard 
soon put a stop to that by threatening that he’d flog “to an inch 
of his life any one who made a noise.” 

Tbe first negro knocked off was a young fellow of sixteen or 
or seventeen, a field hand, who seemed rather to like the situa- 
tion, he grinned good-naturedly at the praises of the auctioneer, 
much to the indignation of the other negroes. 

“Dat ar’ niggah’s a bawn fool,” said a woman on the outskirts 
of the crowd. “He sech a tone-down fool, he dunno wat’s a 
gwine on.” 

“He’ll kotch it time ’nough,” replied one of the black men, 
with a gloomy brow. 

The youth was knocked down to one of the traders, another 
field hand was put up and bid off at a fair price, and still anoth- 
er; each one, as he stepped down from the stand, the property 
of a new master, elicited groans and moans from the assemble*d 
blacks. 

Then it came Tally’s turn. Tally was such a universal favo- 
rite and known to have been a particular and especial favorite 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


185 


I 

with his old master in the past, and equally as beloved by his 
old master’s daughter and granddaughter in the present, that the 
negroes could hardly realize the dreadful fact that Tally was also 
to be sold and sent away. Tallyrand’s old father followed him 
to the stand upon which he was to be exhibited to the gaping 
crowd. 

“Bar up, Tally,” was the old man’s parting exhortation. “Bar 
pp, my boy. De Lawdwill pervide fur dem dat puts der trus’ 
in him — de Lawd will take keer o’ dem dat trusses in his mus- 
sies — Bar up, my boy.” 

Then the old man returned to his chair under the tree, his 
head fell on his breast, the tears trickled down his brown old 
cheeks, and his lips moved in silent prayer. 

The auctioneer, who was a very lively little man, with peart, 
vivacious little eyes, seemed to take a lively pleasure in the part 
he was playing in the great show; he welcomed the amiable 
looking Tally with exuberant cordiality. 

“Come up, my fine fellow,” he said, taking Tally by the hand. 
“Come right along and show these gentlemen what a number- 
one-er you are !” 

Here he gazed admiringly on the chattel, turning him round 
and round, so as to see all sides. 

“Fine fellow,” he cried, patting him on the back. “Splendid 
fellow,! (patting him on the chest) Worth his weight in gold — 
real yellow gold ! (patting him on the head, though he had to 
reach up to do it) Here’s your trusty house servant ! Look at 
his countenance — good as a prayer book with a gold clasp to it ! 
Look at his build ! — a Sampson — a perfect Sampson ! Look in 
his eyes ! — amiable as a kitten, a child might lead him ! Here’s 
a chest for you ! (slapping Tally’s broad breast — the poor fellow 
did not seem to be particularly elated by the many compliments 
he was getting) What are you going to start this number one 
fellow at ? Who’ll begin with a thousand? — Worth it — every 
cent of a thousand, and more too ! I tell you, gentlemen, if any 
of you are going into the sculpture line and want a model for a 
Sampson, here he is ! Here’s j r our model ! Sound as a dollar ! 
Warranted, no consumption — except the old-fashioned consump- 
tion of hog and hominy, (this brought out various guffaws from 
the crowd of whites, the blacks failed to see the wit). That’s the 
kind of consumption this number-one fellow complains of ! Look 
at his muscle! Why, this boy’s worth his thousands! The 
best coachman in the State ! The very chap to look after wo- 
men and children ! Sound as a dollar ! What’ll you start him 
at? No shortness of wind! (pounding on Tally’s breast) No 
heart affection — except kindness of heart, and that he’s chock 
full of!” 

Another guffaw from the whites, a groan from the blacks, 
and the bidding commenced briskly. 

Luring all this time the subject of these eulogies stood as do- 


186 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


k 

cile as a lamb, and bore the punchings, and poundings, an pat- 
tings, and heard those sinister compliments, with a solemn, woe- 
begone face. 

Tally was knocked down at $1,050. Hillyard was highly 
pleased. Tally’s purchaser took him by the hand and led him 
to the tree where sat his old father, with his head sunk on his 
breast. 

This new purchaser was a little, amiable man, a stranger to all on 
the ground. The traders looked at him in some curiosity; they 
had fully expected to get Tally into their own clutches, but this 
little, pleasant-looking man, at the last minute, put in his bid, 
and the negro was knocked down to him. 

“Cheer up, my good fellow,” said Tally’s new master, kindly, 
“Cheer up; you have friends to stand by you.” 

Then he went back to the stand. Daddy Dick was struck by 
the kind voice, he looked up at the pleasant face and thanked 
the Lord that he had sent his son a good master. Tally was not 
so much consoled, the tears trickled down his cheeks. No won- 
der, indeed — sold from home, friends, wife, and children ! He 
felt that all the light had departed from his life. 

The next chattel put up was Tally’s daughter, Thetty, w r ho 
ha,d to be supported on the stand by two men. If left to herself 
an instant, her knees gave way, and she dropped in a huddle to 
the ground. When Daddy Dick saw that his granddaughter was 
up for sale, he again rose slowly, he was a great, heavy, old man, 
and went up to Tally’s new master, the little, pleasant-faced 
man, and pulled him by the sleeve to get his attention. 

“She’s a good gal, Massa” he said in an entreating tone. 
“She’s a good gal, an* a smart un — ef Massa’ll on’y buy her too, 
so’s she’ll keep ’long wid her pappy !” 

The little, pleasant-faced man said he’d do his best — he’d be 
sure to do his best. Whereupon the old negro went back to his 
son feeling that there was much to be thankful for. 

“De Lawd is good to dem as trusses in him,” he muttered, 
with pious resignation, laying his great brown hand upon Tally’s 
shoulder. “I’s been a prayin’ for you night an’ day, Tally,” 
he said, “a prayin’ eber sence dat ar’ bad man got hisself stuck 
up in ole Massa's place. I’s been prayin’ de good Lawd fur ter 
open a way outen dis dawk wil’erness, so de people o’ Ashcote 
mout kotch sight o’ de promise’ lan, an’ ef so be, you an’ Thetty 
was to go ’way from yo’ homes, an’ yo’ people, you mout go to- 
gedder, an’ be wid one’noder, an’ fine a master what wouldn’ be 
too s'vere, an’ I prayed de good Lawd to hab mussy on dese Ash- 
cote folks, an’ bless de good Lawd, Tally ! hit do ’pear like lie’s, 
a hearin’ o’ my pra’r, an’ sent a mussiful master to take kere o’ 
you an’ Thet.” 

Even this cheerful view of the situation did not enliven poor 
Tally to any great extent. His wife was laid up at home, in 
his little cabin, with a new baby — he had bidden her good-bye 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


187 


with apprehension and anxiety, but still with hope — with strong 
hope that he would not be troubled, that the new master would 
not dare to sell a servant so trusted and beloved by the ladies of 
the house. . Now that hope was dead, and poor Tally’s heartfelt 
like lead within his breast. 

When the lively little auctioneer saw the limp and drooping 
Thetty pushed and lifted upon the stand, he broke into broad 
smiles, with the amiable intention o.f counteracting the dismal 
impression the girl was bound to make upon the audience. 
He grinned and jested, chucked Thetty under the chin, winked 
at the crowd and said she dropped her head to hide her blushes, 
whereat the crowd gave a loud guffaw and began to see some- 
thing very funny in the poor girl’s miserable condition. 

“Now, gentlemen,” said the lively little auctioneer, “I offer 
jou, not only a number-one house girl — a perfect treasure — her 
mistress is now crying her eyes out at parting with her! — a dia- 
mond of the first water, a young lily of the valley, a daisy, fair 
as a flower, as you can see for yourselves ! Tender as a spring 
chicken ! Sold for no fault of her own ! Docile as a young duck, 
faithful as a field-mule to the sound of the twelve-o’clock dinner 
horn! (another loud guffaw) Honest, smart— her young mistress 
values her above all price ! What’ll you start her at? Give her 
a bid ! Who says five hundred ? — Five hundred! — Five hundred 
and — fifty — do I hear ?’ ’ 

Poor Thet, at every allusion to her young mistress, showed an 
increased weakness in the knees, and a stronger tendency to sink 
down in a huddle at the feet of the lively little auctioneer. The 
bids were rather slow, owing, as Hillyard thought, to the girl’s 
obstinate determination to look her very worst on purpose to in- 
jure him — “d n hei !” She was knocked down to 'the same 

little old gentleman who had purchased her father. 

“Who the devil is he ?” asked one of the disappointed tra- 
•ders. 

No one knew him. 

“He doesn’t look like one of our trade,” said another. 

“No; a d d sight moie like a Methodist parson,” said the 

first. 

“Pluck up your spirits, my girl,” said the pleasant little old 
gentleman, as he led his newly purchased chattel to her father 
and grandfather. “Keep a good heart, you’ve got friends— you 
may depend on that — good friends, they have not forgotten you. 
There— stay with your pappy and granlpappy until I come for 
you.” 

Damon was the next one put up. Damon’s condition was but 
little, if any, better than Thetty ’s. He was put on the stand by 
two white men, who stood on either side, pulling him up when- 
ever he began to drop down. The crowd broke into a roar of 
laughter at the sight of his drooping figure, and down-hung head. 
Hillyard, who was out of humor, and angry enough because 
Thetty’s dismal and down-dropping tendency had injured her 


188 


BLACK AKD WHITE . 


sale, was still more enraged at Damon’s “playing the same 
game,” as he put it. He really thought the poor creatures affect- 
ed weakness on purpose to vex and injure him, so little could 
he understand the way negroes must feel under such circum- 
stances. 

Going close up to Damon, Hilly ard tried with fierce looks^ 
and dreadfully threatening words to stimulate him to hold up his 
head, look alive and attractive, so as to bring a good price ; but 
all with no perceptible effect. Damon’s knees shook as with a 
palsy, his head hung on his breast, his long wool, usually so 
smoothly combed and rolled on the top of his head, was now 
in a most rumpled and rough state, torn up during his struggle 
with the traders, who captured and dragged him out. 

His grandmother, Mammy Rose, a large-framed, stately and 
dignified, brown-skinned woman, had, from the beginning of the 
execrable proceedings, stood on the outskirts of the black crowd, 
the whites crowded close around the platform, the negroes 
crowded up behind the whites. Mammy. Rose stood aloof ; she 
towered up above the women near her, looking over their heads. 
She had a full view* of the little auctioneer and his victim. Always 
grave and serious and severe, Mammy Rose’s countenance wa& 
now stern and savage. A storm raged in her black breast, lurid 
fires burned in her eyes. A tall turban towered up on her head, 
tufts of gray hair stuck out from the temples, her face was 
square-cut, the under jaw bones strong and prominent, giving 
her a look of great power. When the lively little auctioneer 
laid his hands on Damon’s shoulder, and the poor fellow seem- 
ed ready to drop to the earth, his head sunk on his breast, it 
was more than his grandmother could stand. With burning eyes 
and stern-set face she strode through the crowd of blacks and 
whites, pushing them aside with her strong hands, until she 
reached the stand, sprang upon it, laid one hand on Damon with 
a firm grasp, and with the other gave a shove to the lively little 
auctioneer, which sent him backward a yard or so, much to his 
amazement; he, an auctioneer, profaned by a push from the 
hands of a slave ! He had auctioned off many a negro, and such 
a monstrous deed had never occurred before. 

However, being a lively little man and fertile in expedients, 
he recovered himself quickly and skipped back to the front 
ready with his quirk and gibe to turn the laugh on his side. 

But what were quirks and gibes to an enraged maternal heart? 
Mammy Rose met him with the glare of a tigress fighting for 
her cub. 

“Keep yo’ ban’s often dis boy !” she said with stern command. 
“Sech as you is got no business to lay de weight o r yo’ little 
finger on dis boy — keep oft'!” 

Hillyard, who was standing at the moment a few yards away 
from the auction block, strode up to it with anger at the old ne- 
gress’ interference with the sale. He looked upon resistance as 
the very height of impudence, coming from so low a creature as 


black and white. 


m 


a slave woman. Jumping on the platform, he seized the wo- 
man’s arm to drag her down, tae was a strong, six-foot, broad- 
shouldered man; she was a strong, well-knit, muscular woman, 
descended from a race of muscular African savages. Despair 
made her daring, sense of wrong made her ferocious. She 
turned her eyes, gleaming yellow tire, like an enraged panther’s,, 
on her assailant, and glared at him as if she could tear him to 
pieces. 

* ‘Git down and out ! you infernal old fool!” Hillyard yelled r 
dragging at the woman with all his might. 

She dropped her grip on Damon, threw one arm around a 
slender sapling growing by the side of the stand, and held back 
with powerful muscle. 

“Git down, and clear off, if you don’t want to get yourself 
whaled to an inch of your life !” he shouted, still more enraged 
by her resistence. 

An angry tigress* from her native jungles of Africa, could have 
looked no more savagely dangerous than that outraged slave 
mother. 

“You !” she shouted in ringing tones, “You! — low-down thief! 
—You lay yo’ low-down ban’s on me ! — Who stole ole master’s 
will ? — Answer dat ef you dars ! — Who stole ole master’s will ? 
— You knows ! — Thief! — Robber ! — Liar ! — Liar ! — Robber !. 
—Thief!” 

These words she hurled in his face with such scorching 
force, they burned like a blister. Hillyard’s rage lost all bounds,, 
a murderous devil darted from his eyes, he raised his clenched 
fist to fell her to the earth, quick as a panther, she dashed her- 
self on his breast, threw her strong arms around his neck in a 
strangling embrace, and bore him backward bv the pow r er of her 
fury. For a few seconds the batttle between the man and the 
woman was about even; how it would have ended had there 
been a fair fight can never be known, for, alas ! and alas ! the 
instinct of race, of class, which, in this poor world of ours, so of- 
ten overrides and overwhelms the sense of justice, brought to the 
man the assistance of his own class, and sex. White men gath- 
ered around the combatants, loosened the black fingers from the 
throat and hair of their white brother, seized and overpowered 
the woman, threw r her on the ground, clapped manacles on her 
hands, gagged her mouth, and tied her feet. And as. she lay 
there, utterly helpless, among all the crowd of whites there were 
but two in whose breasts the sense of justice rose superior to the 
prejudice of class, color and race. The one was the purchaser of 
Thetty and Tally, the other was our old acquaintance, Cal- 
yx, whose liberal nature so hated injustice, he sympathized with 
the oppressed of every class and both sexes. 

Physically, Calyx knew he was powerless to help this woman 
those who wronged her w r ere backed by that power, called “law” 
— that invisible thing which has wrought more suffering, com- 
mitted more crime, done more evil, than all the evil doers it at- 


190 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


tempted to punish. 

As Hillyard was about to strike the woman, Calyx caught his 
up-raised arm and expostulated upon the brutality of the act, 
and with as little effect as a mad bull would feel from the blow- 
ing of a gentle zephyr. 

Hillyard planted his knee on the woman’s breast to hold her 
down while they gagged and made her fast. Calyx turned away, 
sick at heart. 

4 ‘And this,” he thought, “this is called the age of civiliza- 
tign!” 

To escape the revolting scene, Calyx turned his back on the 
crowd and gazed over and beyond — on the peaceful heavens 
above, on the calm sea in the distance, on whose waves the 
bright sunlight danced and glittered, and the white-sailed boats 
floated like winged birds. All nature was fair and serene and 
lovely; earth, air, sky, and water, were beautiful, and smiled 
benificently on man. Man makes his own woes and wretched- 
ness. All animals of the same kind and kin, save man, are 
friendly and peaceful to each other. They band together against 
their common foes. Man is man’s worst enemy. While reflec- 
tions of this saddening nature were passing through the young 
student’s mind, as he gazed on the distant scene, he saw a horse 
and rider, coming at full tilt down the road, turn in through 
the park gate, and come on with the most impetuous gallop. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

DOLLY TO THE FRONT. 

Calyx’s eyes followed the horseman with that sort of vague in- 
terest which is aroused bv wild haste. The motion was so rapid 
Calyx did not recognize his old friend and fellow student Charl- 
monte until he reigned up his foaming horse on the outskirts of 
the crowd sprung to the ground and plunged in among the 
blacks; nor did Calyx see, until Charlmonte dismounted, that he 
was not alone on the horse, that a black and lean negress with a 
tall turban on her head was perched up behind him. When 
Charlmonte dismounted the lean negress nimbly slipped herself 
into the saddle, seized the bridle, gave it a quick jerk, dug her 
heels into the animals flanks and started off in a gallop toward 
the house. It flashed across Calyx’s mind that he had heard 
Charlmonte declare that nothing on earth could induce him to 
witness the auction, that negro auctions were spectacles revolting 
to gods and men. yet here he came almost at break-neck speed 
to see that revolting sight. Charlmonte pushed his way through 
the crowd and reached the auction block just as the men had 
completed their work of fettering and gagging Mammy Rose w ho 
Jay panting with such a look of dumb despair on her old brown 


HLA CK AND WHITE. 


191 


face as never before sun shone upon. But no pity stirred the 
heart of the new master, even as the woman lav prostrate and 
helpless, bound hand and foot, his rage not yet appeased, he 
raised his hand to deal a parting blow, with an oath telling her 
he’d let her know who was master of Ashcourt, he or she.” 

“That is the lesson I have come to teach you, scoundrel !” 
cried Charlmonte striking down the upraised hand, seizing him 
by the collar and hurling him in among the crowd against which 
he stumbled, picked himself up and turned on this fresh assail- 
ant. 

“I don’t want any row with you, young man,” said Hillyard 
gruffly, “go about your business and leave me to mine — Auction- 
eer go on with the sale, we’re losing time.” 

Two other men were now seen galloping up, these also sprung 
from their liorses, pushed their way up to the stand and stood by 
Oharlmonte. 

“Go on with the sale !” yelled Hillyard. 

“I forbid the sale !” cried Charlmonte jumping up on the stand 
by the side of the lively little auctioneer who looked dazed and 
•dumb at so extraordinary a proceeding, never in his experience 
had a “nigger auction” had so many accidents. Hillyard 
glowered in silent rage at the young man wondering what 
would turn up next. What did turn up was furthest from his 
thoughts. 

“I forbid the sale,” repeated Charlmonte throwing out his 
strong, clear voice so that it was heard by the furthest ear, “be- 
cause this man has no right. to sell one single item of the Ash- 
court estate, he has no more right to call himself the master of 
these negroes than they have to call themselves his master.” 

“That’s a lie!” roared Hillyard, “that’s an infamous lie! a 
conspiracy of my wife’s kin to swindle me out of my rights as 
husband of old Henry Ashford’s daughter, his only daughter. 

Touch that woman at your peril, she is my slave and by ! 

I’ll go for any man, to the full extremity of the law, who dares 
to interfere between me and ray slaves.” 

This last threat was hurled at the two men who had just gal- 
loped up and pushed their way to Charlmote. In obedience to 
•Chari monte’s command these two men begun to relieve Mammy 
Rose of the gyves that bound her. The men did not notice the 
threat but went on untieing until they lifted her up and gave her 
a sip of brandy to restore her fainting spirit. 

At that instant the two Island girls, Miss Charlmonte and Miss 
Ashford, with Dolly at their heels were seen coming swiftly for- 
ward from the house. Both black and white opened and made a 
lane for the three women to go on up to the auction block, the 
center of intense interest, the object of every eye. 

Hillyard stood on the stand appealing to the crowd. 

“I appeal to every man in the state,” he roared, “to sustain 
me in my rights — my’rights are men’s rights — I am the legal hus- 
band of old Henry Ashford’s only daughter ; every man knows 


192 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


the law makes a husband the sole owner and proprietor of his 
wife’s property, the law of South Carolina says what is a wife’s 
is her husband’s.” 

“I appeal to every honest man in the State of South Carolina ; 
I denounce this man as a thief and liar. Henry Ashford left a 
will demising his property to his granddaughter, said will strict- 
ly excluded this man from any share or part in the property ; 
that man hired a burglar to break open the late Henry Ashford’s 
desk and purloin his last will and testament. Thank Heaven l 
that will is found, the rascality is exposed, the true heir is here 
to pronounce every sale fraudulent and void,” said Charlmonte. 

The crowd of w 7 hites gave a yell of satisfaction although a mo- 
ment before they had been ready to yell for the thief and gam- 
bler ; the blacks*, more slow to take in the facts, gave a general 
groan not exactly eeing which w 7 ay the wind blew. * 

“By !” roared Hilly ard driven to desperation, “what does 

all this d n foolery mean ? 1 had this stand put up for my 

own use. What right has my wife’s kin to interfere with my af- 
fairs?” 

“Gentlemen,” cried Charlmonte, “the late Henry Ashford’s 
last will and testament is now in my possession, this lady is his 
sole heir. You shall hear from the finder of that will how it was 
stolen and how 7 found.” 

Foaming at the mouth, livid with rage Hillyard swore it was a 
lie, a conspiracy of his wife’s kin. 

The crow r d showed their interest in the matter in a way more 
forcible than polite. 

“Trot her out!” shouted one. 

“Fetch her to the front!” halloed another. 

“Give us the whole hog!” yelled another and so on. In obe- 
dience to these enthusiastic calls Charlmonte pushed to the front 
the smiling Dolly, who, noivise abashed, dropped two or three of 
her most amiable courtesies to the wondering crowd who shout- 
ed and clapped and laughed at the novelty of the show 7 . , 

A sickening sensation came over Hi 11 yard at the sight of this- 
black and lean aparition. The scene and the place where he had 
first seen her and the memory of his conversation with Carson,, 
rushed upon him with an awful force, his face blanched, his- 
knees smote together, his eyes, staring and fixed, had in them 
the very agony of anxiety as if the last plank, was giving way and 
the wild waters hungrily waited to drown him. 

“Now 7 Dolly,” said Charlmonte, “speak right out and tell 
these good friends all you know about vour old Mas Henry’s 
will.” 

Nothing loth Dolly begun her story, not, however, as if she 
were addressing the gaping curious crowd who pressed up aroumi 
as close as they possibly could, but as if she saw no one except 
her young master. 

“You sec, Mas Ed’rd,” she said, “it was las’ Christmas-eve 
night as I was cornin’ home from clinch (Dolly had so often said 


SLACK AND WHITE. 


193 


coming home from church instead of prison that she had come to 
believe the story herself) whar prar meetin’ was guine on, when 
lo ! an’ behole ! dar in my doah was free little chilluns scrouch- 
•ed up a tryin’ to keep dev little sevs wawm, do dey was nigh 
’bout mose fruz to deaf an’ mose starv to deaf too; I says to 
d$m chilluns — beeaze I know'ed dem chilluns an’ I know’ed der 
ma was a good ’ooman, a monsus good, ’dustris ’ooman — I says 
to ’em, says I, ‘come long wid me chilluns, Dolly’ll tek you to 
see two rich, gran’ ladies whar’ll gin you wdttels to eat an’ close 
to war, meanin’ Miss Roma dar an’ Miss Conny, who was bofe 
on ’em at dat big school in New Yawk a studin der book dat 
time, so we went long to de big school hus — hit war a powful cole 
night, sho ! an’ when we git dar, bless you Mas Ed’rd, if dem 
gals want ’bout for to set down to de finest supper ole Aunt Ra- 
chel eber cook in all her bawn days, which was sont in a box 
from Miss Conny’s ma for dem gals’es Christmas supper, an’ 
when dem young gals seed de ,po’ little chilluns mose fruz an’ 
mose starv to deaf, dey jes up an’ says, says dey, ‘gin ’em dat 
good wittles, tek it to der po’ ma,’ an Miss Roma dar she jes up 
an’ puts on her cloak, an’ her hood, an’ dat po’ Arish man, he 
totes de box wid de supper in’t, an’ wen we gin ’em all nuff to 
eat, an’ het up de room wid a good fiah, Miss Roma, she went 
long back to de big school hus, an’ de chilluns and der ma, dey 
fall fas’ asleep, an’ I jes querl up in de waw r mes’ corner on a 
blanket for tu ketch a little cat nap when, lo an’ behole ! I heern 
big heavy feet a cornin’ up de starsteps, an’ dem feets day stop 
right agin de doah, an’ I heern two men a talkin’ outside, an’ 
presen’ly dem two oudacious men jes had de imperenee to smell 
dat tukky whar aunt Rachel cook so good, an’ come in dar a nosin’ 
’roun for to get a chance for to fill deysevs wid dat tukky, an’ fo’ 
de gracious goodness ! Mas Ed’rd, dey’d a gobbled it up eby 
moufful ’ceptin I riz right up an’ skeered ’em out’en de room ; 
den dey went into de nex’ room whar b’long to one o’ dem ouda- 
cious men, a po’ low-down drunken locksmif, his name which 
was Carson, an’ dey sot down in de locksmif ’s room, an’ talk an’ 
talk an’ talk, an’ l heern eby wud dey say, an’ dat man dar 
(pointing her claw-like forefinger at the shaking and livid Hill- 
yard) he say he guine gin toder man five t’ousan’ dollar ef he 
go an’ get de dockymen for him, den I ups an’ axes Mas Ed’rd 
what was dem varmint dockymens ? an' Mas Ed’rd he says, 
says he, pulliu’ ob a paper outen his pocket, he says, says he, 
‘here, dis is a dockymen, dis hit.’ ” 

“ Den I nebber seed dem two mens no moah for long time, not 
tell arter ole Mas.’ Henry he tuck sick so bad dey sent for Miss 
Roma an’ Miss Conny for to come home, den fo’ I knows, dar 
was de locksmif right dar, agin my winder, a lookin’ in at me. 

“ ‘ You knows me, eh ? ’ says he. 

“ ‘ How I gwine to know you, when I neber lay eyes on you 
afo’ in all my bawn days? ’ says I, as’peart as you please, dough 
I knowed him jes’ as well as anybody, but I wouldn’ let on 


194 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


Mas’ Ed’rd, becaze you see I knowed deni oudacious men what 
would a’ eat up dat tukky Aunt Rachel cook so good, was up to 
mischief o’ some sort or nudder. So 1 jes’ says to myself, says 
I, ‘ Dolly, you jes keep yo’ eyes peeled, an’ lay low, an’ look 
in’cent as cle suckin’ dove, an’ line out what deni men’s up to.’ 
An’ dat locksmif he went back to de same room what he usent 
to hev, an’ dar was a little knot-hole in de wall atwix’ his room 
an’ de nex’, an’ I jes’ sot my eye agin de knot-hole for to see 
what de locksmif was a doin’, an’ de nex’ day dat man dar 
(pointing at the stricken Hillyard), he corned to see de locksmif, 
an’ he says, says he, £ I got de dockymen’, Ilillud, but I’s 
skeered to trus’ you,’ says he ; ‘ I’s done hid de dockymen’ tell 
we settles de ongreemens,’ Says he. Den dat man (pointing at 
the shaking criminal) he says, says he, wid a wickedsome cuss 
wud, says he, ‘ Bv G — d ! * says he, ‘What’d you sen’ for me for, 
ef you ain’t agwine for to show me de dockymen’? ’ Den de 
locksmif he says, sai r s lie, ‘ I is gwine to show you de docky- 
men’, Hillud, but you’s de bigges’ man, I’s skeered to trus’ you, 
Hillud, ’ceptin’ you’s tied, so you can’t jek it outen my ban’ an’ 
stroy it ’fo I knows what you’s up to,’ says de locksmif. Den 
dat man (always indicating the criminal with her black, claw- 
like fore-finger) lie ups and says, says he, feece as a rattlesnake 
when you treads on his rattle, says he, ‘ What de h — 11 ! Do you 
mean to ’suit me ? ’ sa 3 ? s he, mad as ary fightin’ tom-cat wid his 
tail pulled. Den says de locksmif, says he, ‘I’s feerd to trus’ 
you, Hillud, an’ I ain’t agwine to trus’ you, ’ceptin’ you give me 
my way ’bout de matter,’ says he. Den dat man he says, says 
he, wid a curus sort o’ laugh, says he, ‘ You’s a fool, Carson. 
Go on wid yo’ way den, an’ trot it out,’ says he. Den de lock- 
smif he teks a rope outen his pocket, an’ dat man he puts out 
his han’s jes’ so (crossing her two hands to illustrate), and' de 
locksmif he tied dat man’s han’s tight beliine him, den he tied 
him to de bed postes, arter which de locksmif, he went out o’ 
de room a little while, den lie coined back wid a paper, an’ he 
says, holdin’ afo’ dat man’s eyes, says he, ‘ Disis de gran’ docky- 
men’ wuf more’n a hundred tousan’ dollars,’ says he, ‘ ef it’s 
wuf a cent,’ says he. Den dat man dar, he says, says he, ‘ You 
shall hab de berry fus’ five tousand dollars I lay han’s on, Car- 

son. By , you shall! for doin’ dat good job — a gittin’ dat 

dockymen’,’ says he. 

Den, arter dat, de locksmif, he went out o’ de room agin, 
tookin’ de dockymen wid him. When he coined back, he untied 
dat man, an’ dat man dar went ’long ’bout his business, leavin’ 
de locksmif dar by liissef. I keep my eye on dat locksmif, an 5 
I keep ni}'' eye sot on dat knot-hole in de wall, an I see de lock- 
smif fust of all lock his doah, den I see him tek outen his breas’ 
pocket, dat same dock 3 unen what I heern him say to dat man, as 
he was agwine to lock up in a bank wid a letter ’structin’ de bank 
folks for to sen’ it to de right ownahs in case he was mudded ; 
an’ I sees him huntin’ roun’ an’ roun’ de room fora good place 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


195 - 

for to hide de dockymen’ in, an’ I heern him say to hissef, 

‘ Gin me five tousan’ dollars, eh? You’ll gin me fifty-five 
t’ousan’ afo’ I’.s done wid you, sho ! ’ Den he sarch an sarch 
for a good hidin’ place, but lie didn’ fine one to his notion, so lie 
jes’ pulls off his coat an’ rips open de linin’ in de back, an’ he 
puts de dockymen’ in dar atwix’ de linin’ an’ de coat, an’ den 
he jes’ gits a needle an’ fred an’ sews it up ; an’ by dis time de 
room was good an’ wawm het up by de fiah in de stove, so he 
jes’ hangs his boat up on a. nail druv in de doah ; den I sees him 
sot hissef in a cheer by de winder, an’ light his pipe an’ ’gin to 
smoke, an’ presen ’ly he gits a bottle offen a shelf, an’ he pours 
out a dram an’ drinks it up an’ smokes ; den he pours out anoder 
dram an’ drinks dat up an’ smokes ; an’ Mas’ Ed’rd, ef he didn’ 
keep on smokin’ an’ drinkin’ a sottin’ dar all by hissef tell his 
head it jes’ flopped down dis way (imitating) an’ he jeks it up 
an’ stars about, jes’ dis way (Dolly imitated the drunken starp 
so well it caused a roar of laughter), and dat’s de way he kep’ 
on, tell down he ker-flopped fiat on de floah, an’ lay dar a 
snowin’, fas’ asleep. Den I jes’ runs down stars an’ gits a par 
o’ scissors an’ a needle an’ fred, an’ I gits de step-ladder whar I 
gits on when I cleans de winders, an’ I sets dat step ladder agin 
his doah an’ climes up an’ gets fro’ de transet over his doah, an’ 

I lets mysef down into his room, whar he was a snowin’ away, 
dead drunk like a fool; an’ I jes’ rips open de linin’ o’ his coat 
an’ gits dat dockymen’ an’ chugs it down in my pocket, dis way 
(imitating); den I sews up de linin’ an’ hangs up de coat an’ 
clum outen de room fro’ dat transet winder ober de doah, an’ 
went away jes’ as in’cent as any suckin dove in de Ian’. Dat 
locksmif, he kep’ on drinkin free four days fo’ he plum soberes 
up. Heap o’ times he come down to my room an’ ax me to go 
an’ git him a bottle o’ whisky, den he go at it agin, all by hissef, 
a drinkin’ an’ a smokin’. An’ dat man (meaning Hilyard) he 
come to see him mos’ ebv day, an’ lie ax him ivhar he put de 
dockyunen’. An’ de locksmif, he says, says he, ‘ Neber you 
mine, it’s safe, it’s all right, if anything happens to me you won't 
get it, member dat,’ says de locksmif, says he. i You’s a 
drunken fool, Carson,’ says dat man, says lie, k What you so 
’spicious o’ bein’ kill for? — you’s a killin’ of yosef fas’ enough,’ 
says he, ‘ widout no hep from me,’ says he. Den arter a while 
de locksmif he sober up, sho nuff, an’ bime by he begin to look 
monsus low-down in de mouf an’ trouble in his mine, becase he 
couldn’ fine de dockymen’. I watch him from de knot-hole, I 
sees him a sarchin’ an’ a sarchin’ ebery hole an’ corner, an’ a 
rippin up his coat, a lookin’ in de linin’, but I neber lets on : 
an’ bime by he comes down to my room, whar I w r as a singin r 
uv a chuch hymn an’ a patchin’ o’ my ole flannan petticoat, as 
in’cent as ary suckin’ dove, an’ he says, says he, as polite as a 
basket o’ chips, says he, ‘ Dolly, is you foun’ any paper ’boutde 
house?’ says he. * An' I says, says I, smoove as honey melted 
up wid butter, says I, ‘ I seed some ole scrap o’ newspaper in de 


196 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


hall, J says I, ‘ an’ I swep it up an chug it in de fiah,’ says I, in’- 
cent as do suckin’ lam’ — ‘was dem de ones?’ says I. Den he 
says, says he, lookin’ mose monsus low-down in de mouf, says 
he, ‘ No’ hit want no scrap o’ newspaper, hit was writin’, on 
paper like dis,’ says he, takin’ of a dockymen’ outen his pocket 
an’ holdin’ it afo’ my eyes, ‘kinder sorter like dis,’ he says, 
says he. Den I sa^s, says I lookin’ as in’cent as ary tukle dove, 
‘ I ain’t seed no writin’ paper — no, sir — a layin’ ’bout,’ says I, 
,ef I was to see a writin ’ paper layin’ ’bout de floah, I’d be sho 
to pick it up an’ take good keer on it. I neber buns no writin’ 
paper,’ says I. Den dat locksmif he look monsus low-down in 
de mouf, an’ he says, says he, ‘ I done loss a paper wid writin’ 
on it, kinder sorter like dis yer paper ; ef you fines it,’ says he, 

‘ I gin you a golden gole dollar,’ says he. Den I says, says I, 
4 1 gwine hunt for dat paper ; it mout a blowed somers under de 
beds, or de burers ; I gwine hunt all ober de house, you bet I 
will, becaze I wants to git dat golden gole dollar, I do dat — bad.’ 
But, Mas’ Ed’rd, I neber got dat golden gole dollar — nary time, 
I jes’ helt on to dat dockymen, an’ arter a while de locksmif he 
went a>vay, an’ I heern as ole Mas’ Henry was took so bad, an’ 
was gone over Jordan, an I kep thinkin’ an’ thinkin ’bout de ole 
Islan’ folks, tell I jes’ ups an’ comes down, an’ neber knowed 
’bout dat man dar bein’ so oudacious as to set hissef up as de 
master o’ de Ashcote folks tell I seed Miss Roma, an’ Miss 
Roma she ups an’ tells me all about hit. Den I says, says I: 
‘Miss Roma, ef de good Lawd spars my life, I’s gwine to 
Richlan’ for to get a good look at dat oudacious man, he was 
a-staying at Richlan’ den, a-tormentin de folks dar wid his oud- 
acious ways.’ So I ups an’ goes to Richlan’ an’ I walks ’long by 
de gin has, whar dat man was a- weighin’ de cotton dat de nig- 
gers pick outen de fiel’ an’ tote up in der big baskets, an’ de fus’ 
minute I sot eyes on dat man, Mas Ed’rd, I knowed him, I 
knowed he was de same man what kep on a-talkin’ ’bout de 
dockymens, an’ fo’ de Lord, Mas Ed’rd, I come nigh droppin’ 
down right dar on de groun’, I was so awful tuck aback when I 
seed he war de same po’ white trash as tried for ter get hole o’ 
d it tukky Miss Roma fotch dem chillun’s ma. I jes got so weak 
in de knees, I sorter let down easy an’ quirled up dar agin one 
o’ de cotton bales, an’ jes sot dar an’ star wid all my eyes at dat 
man till presently, Mas Ed’rd, it ’peared like somefin’ come to 
me and says, says dat ar somefin, says hit, ‘Git up Doll, an’ get 
dat dockymen outen yo’ bag o’ close, an’ jes go right straight 
an’ show it to yo’ Mas Ed’rd.’ So I jes ups an’ goes straight to 
Daddy Dick’s house whar I lef my bag o’ close, an’ I jes fish 
down ’mong all dem close and quilt scraps, what I’s savin’ up 
for to make a log-cabin quilt, an’ gets dat dockymen an’ goes 
straight back to Charmon Hall an’ dar I seed young Mas Ed’rd, 
monsus low down in de mouf, becaze de Ashcote folks were took 
up for to sell by dat ar oudacious man ; an’ I says, says I, ‘Mas 
Ed’rd, if you please for to read dis yer dockymen, an’ gin me a 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


197 


glimpse what is de nater o’ de critter?' Den Mas Ed’rd he look 
at it dis way, (attempting to imitate astonishment) an' if he did- 
n’t tun jes as white as ary ghose you ever seed in yo’ bawn 
days ! an’ he farly shook all over same as if he was gwine to 
shake hissef to pieces. Den I gets to shaken too becaze I gets 
awful skeered. I says to mysef, says I, ‘Oh, you fool niggah ! 
You's done gone an’ gin yo’ young master de wustes’ dockymen 
in de wul’ !’ Den Mas Ed’rd, he ups an’ says says he, lookin’ 
at me sorter fierce like an’ a-tremblin’ all over same as ef he had 
de shakin’ agu, says he, ‘Whar did you git dis dockymen?’ Den 
I ups an’ tells him jes how hit was, an’ all I knowedbout ,dem 
two oudacious men a-comin to gobble up dat big tuky whar aunt 
Rachel cook so good for Miss Roma an’ Miss Conny. Den Mas 
Ed’rd he says, says he, a-shakin’ like de shakin’ agu, says he, 
‘Oh, Dolly, you’s done done it ! You’s done done it!’ den he 
farly flied outen de room to whar his pa, Ole Mas Ed’rd, was 
a-sottin on de poch, looking monsus low down in de mouf, an’ I 
says to rnysef, says I, ‘Oh, you fool niggah — you big tone-down 
fool niggah, for to fetch yo’ Mas Ed’rd sech a awful mean docky- 
men as dat!’ an’ I says to mysef, says I, ‘Dat’s what you gits 
for foolin’ long wid dockymens, an’ I sots to, right den and dar 
an’ begins to ax de good Lawd for to look over sech sinful sins, 
an’ gin me hebenly spotean’ put my trus’ in de blood o’ de Lam’ 
an’ I hearn young Mas Ed’rd say to his pa, says he, ‘Look at it ! 
Ain’t it wonderful ! Ain’t it ginywine ?” meanin’ de dockymen. 
Den bime-by ole Mas Ed’rd an’ young Mas Ed’rd dey corned up 
to whar I was a-standin’, prayin’ to de good Lawd, an’ dey jes 
kotch me by de han’ an’ gin me a ole-fashion hug, de teahs in 
jdey eyes, an’ ole Mas Ed’rd he says, says he, ‘Dolly, you’s a 
reglar black dimon — you is ! You is de Afiyken Ko-no — you is !’ 
Den I jes begins to see fro dat oudacious dockymen varmint, an’ 
dat’s all I knows, Mas Ed’rd.” 

Dolly came to a sudden halt ; instantaneously her countenance 
underwent a change. While telling her story, her face had pre- 
served a sober seriousness, not once exhibiting any conscious- 
ness of the curious crowd gazing upon her, listening with breath- 
less interest. When she came to a sudden halt, she turned and 
looked at the crowd, her black visage beaming, her teeth gleam- 
ing white, her whole face and person seemed to radiate smiles 
and good humor, she dropped her best plantation courtesy, then 
with a modest air stepped nimbly back and stood in the rear by 
the side of the two young ladies. 

And now a curious hubbub began. It seemed as if a storm was 
blowing up, the whole mass of black and white humanity surged 
and swayed as a sheet of water by a strong wind. There were 
not more than seventy-five or a hundred whites and many hun- 
dred blacks. The slaves from all of the island plantations were 
there. The whites were of the rougher class, sailors, market- 
men, wharf rats fron\ the city ; the negro traders were the most 
respectable present, every one knows how these latter were look- 


198 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


ed upon by the so-called aristocratic classes, though why they 
should deem it aristocratic to own negroes and deeply plebeian to 
buy and sell them is one of the inconsistencies men indulge in. 
Negroes from other places had come from sympathy with the 
Ashcourt negroes, the whites had come principally to enjoy the 
free tobacco and free whisky so liberally dispensed on such 
occasions. Before Dolly began her story, the crowd was pretty 
well warmed up by the whisky and tobacco, handed around by 
two of the Ashcourt field-hands, bribed by the new master to- 
perform that work assiduously by the promise of a gallon of 
whisky. The whites were the first to give vent to the excitement 
caused by the singular turn events had taken and the quantity of 
bad whisky they had drunk. As Dolly concluded her story y 
they burst out in loud yells, shouts and cries. 

“ Bully for the little nigger !” shouted one. 

“Three cheers for the bully little black !” howled another, 
while there swept over .the black crowd a sort of low, rumbling 
growl — not unlike the rumble of distant thunder when a storm is 
brewing. Calyx, who was with the negroes, intently observing 
their emotions, said a lurid fire seemed to burn in their eyes and 
fiercely lighted up their black faces — as the phosphorescent eyes 
of savage beasts light up the darkness with a yellow glow. 
Charlmonte instinctively felt that danger was at hand and strove 
to disperse the crowd, raising his voice above the mutterings of 
the storm, he announced that the sale was over, they might now 
return to their homes, but they did not disperse, on the contrary 
they closed up in closer compact around the auction block — the- 
growls and. groans and shouts became louder and fiercer, the 
whites taking the lead. 

“Three groans and a wild tiger for the devil with a black 
heart!” yelled out a great brawny Caucasian with sten- 
torian lungs and a mane of unkempt sandy hair and beard, not 
unlike a lion^s. 

The groans and the wild tiger were howled forth with such 
vim and feeling, the emotional blacks repeated with double and 
soulful force. The Caucasian with mane of sandy beard and un- 
kempt hair, encouraged by the success of his first effort, assum- 
ed the part of a leader and kept up propositions of a similiar 
nature, calculated to stir the blood of the white and black savage. 
One of the latter, a woman — a common field-hand, the mother of 
the first negro who had been put on the block and sold, all of a 
sudden, under the inspiration of the shouts and murmurs and 
groans and wild tigers going on. seemed to come to a realizing 
sense of the outrage done to her maternal feelings, all of a sud- 
den she felt her maternal heart born with a fierce desire for 
vengeance. When this desire first leaped to life in her half sav- 
age soul, she was standing on the outskirts of the negro crowd, 
she was a woman of Amazonian proportions, color and featured 
of the most pronounced African type. 

“Lemme get at him ! Lemme get at him 1” was the cry from 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


199 


the thick, black lips of this black Amazon as she made a lane 
with her strong, black arms through the crowd, up to the stand 
around which the crowd was surging. 

Hilly ard was now the center of the crowd, toward him every 
black pushed his way, each one wanted to get a good look at so 
tremendous a rogue. He was the show and object of gibes, 
jeers, and taunts. The two white men held him in custody . 
striving to make their way through the dense mass of ireful mor- 
tality. 

“Lemme git at ’im ! Lemme git at ’im !” muttered the Ama- 
zon, pushing her way, a storm cloud on her black brow— lurid 
fire in her phosphorescent eyes. 

“Gin her way. Let her git at ’im,” cried an old negro man, 
aiding her to make a lane through the crowd. “Let her git at 
’im ! He sole her boy — her son, Sam. Gin her way !-^-gin her 
way !” Dar, niggers !” 

This enlisted the others on her side. 

“Tar ’im to pieces !” cried one. 

“Fall on ’im toof an nail !” cried another. 

“Choke ’im to deaf, Mandy Jane !” shouted another. 

These remarks of course increased the maternal rage of the 
Amazon, by the time she had pushed her way to the white 
crowd, she was a black fury, wrought up to the highest pitch by 
the yelps and howls and cries of the crowd. The white men saw 
her — heard the cry, “Ginherway! He stole her boy I Ginher way! 
Let her git at ’im !” &c., and added theirs to the general row. 

“Choke ’im to deaf, Mandy Jane !” howled a stentorian black. 
“Choke ’im to deaf.” 

“Go for him, Nancy Blacking-Box!” yelled the Caucasian 
with the mane of sandy hair. 

This gentleman had a bottle in his pocket, the contents of 
which he took a pull at now and then by way of keeping up his 
strength. 

“Tar out his eyes ! Knock out his front teeth and keep ’em 

to remember him by ! ” he shouted, which piece of wit being 
well received by the crowd, so encouraged the Caucasian with 
the sandy mane, he continued his efforts. 

“Snatch him bald ! Grind him into sassengers, Polly Powder 
Horn !” he yelled. 

“Sling him into shoe-strings!” shouted a little fellow, in imita- 
tion of the man with the mane of unkempt hair. 

By this time the black Amazon had pushed and fought her 
way up to the auction block and stood face to face'with the object 
of her rage — a mad tigress with lurid eyes and strong black fin- 
gers that worked convulsively with the instinct to clutch and 
rend. 

“Lemme git at ’im ! Lemme git at ’im !” was still her cry as 
she fell upon him with all her weight, while the strong, black 
fingers of one hand clutched him by the hair of his head, and the 
other aimed at his throat. Hillyard saw his danger and begged 


200 BLACK And WHITE. 

the two white men who had him in charge to save him from the 
black devil. 

“Tear her off! She’ll choke me to death!” he cried, in a 

panic of fear. “Keep off the d d blacks! — they’ll murder 

me ! ” 

The two men succeeded after a severe struggle, in loosing her 
clutch on his hair and throat. Charlmonte, who knew the wo- 
man, spoke to her with stern authority. 

“For shame ! — for shame,” he cried, “will you bring on your 
soul the sin of murder?” 

“Lemme git at ’im. Lemme git at ’im !” was the mad refrain 
of the mad Amazon. Totally insensible to the reproof, which 
1 under ordinary circumstances would have been received as sacred. 
Charlmonte still feeling a sense -of danger, urged the two white 
men to push on with their prisoner, to get him out and beyond 
the angry crowd, but this was easier said than done, whichever 
way they turned, they met a wall of men pushing up to gaze at, 
jeer at, gibe and mock the unhappy wretch. 

At this moment that ominous cry was heard, “Lynch him! 
Lynch him! Lynch him!” which seemed to leap instanta- 
neously from five hundred throats. It struck terror to Charl- 
monte’ s heart. 

What law-loving American does not turn pale and shudder 
when he hears a mob shout for that merciless judge? — that 
judge not born of a. woman, but of the concrete and concentrated 
rage of a savage multitude. Charlemonte, Calyx, and the two 
officers of the law who had charge of Hilly ard, heard that howl 
with horror ; they knew what it meant. The prisoner also 
knew ; the very name of the pitiless j udge struck terror to his 
soul. These five white men were the center of the angry crowd. 
In vain they attempted to push their way through the mob ; the 
blacks resisted and pressed upon them closer, glaring at the 
prisoner with eyes that gleamed like the eyes of carnivorous 
beasts. The angry Amazon continually grabbed the prisoner, 
and was as often fended off. Pale and panting, Hillyard begged 
the white men to save him from the black devils, who surround- 
ed and pressed them in closer and closer. In vain the whites 
attempted to force a way through the dense mass. As if with 
one mind the negroes resisted. And now that invisible, pitiless 
and unreasoning judge, which, was evoked into existence by the 
rage of the mob, made his influence felt. His spirit began to 
indicate the sentence he meant to execute. 

“ Ride ’im on a rail ! Ride ’im on a rail ! ” roared the hench- 
men of Judge Lynch. 

“ Tar an’ feder ’im ! Tar an’ feder ’im ! ” shouted others fully 
as valorous for mischief. 

The black Amazon raised her voice, magnificent in power and 
not unmelodious, for a more murderous sentence: “ Hang ’im 
to de lim’ o’ de live-oak tree ! ” sang out the Amazon at the top 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


201 


of her lungs. A hundred voices took it up and sang out the 
words as if they were a camp-meeting song : 

“ Hang Mm to de lim’ o’ de live-oak tree ! 

Hang Mm to de lim' o’ de live-oak tree ! ” 

Then a dismal refrain was added. 

. “ Hang im to de lim’ o’ de live-oak tree ! 

Yo! ho ! yo! ho! ” 

While this ominous song was sung out from more than a hun- 
dred throats, the whole mass was moving onward, in what direc- 
tion the white men could hot tell, surrounded as they were by a 
wall of blacks. The maternal Amazon could not be driven from 
the prisoner. She danced about him, swaying her, strong, oily, 
odorous body to the rythm of her song, now and then ceasing to 
sing for a moment, in order to torment the unfortunate wretch in 
an ingenious and original way. She would thrust her great black 
face and yellow, gleaming eyes in his, gnash her teeth at him, 
snarl and snap at him as a dog, then resuming her song and her 
dance, ringing out the words with great enthusiasm, close to his 
ear : 

“ Hang Mm to de lim’ o’ de live-oak tree ! 

Yo ! ho ! yo ! ho ! 

Hang Mm to de linr o’ de live-oak tree ! 

Yo ! ho ! yo ! ho ! ” 

Then she stopped and made a grab at Hilly ard’s hair, bring- 
ing out a handful in her strong, black fingers. This so delighted 
her she stopped and danced a jig up and down, the perspiration 
streaming from her black brow. At this moment from the fore- 
most of the crowd there was added a line to the song : 

“ ’Cept* we fling Mm to de sharks in de bottom o’ de sea ! 

Yo ! ho ! yo ! ho ! 

’Cept we fling Mm to de sharks in de bottom o’ de sea ! 

Yo ! ho ! yo ! ho ! 

This addition struck Charlmonte with consternation ; he in- 
ferred from the change of idea from hanging to drowning that 
they were moving on to the sea — to the cliff, with the intention 
of throwing the man over it. 

Charlmonte knew that all the old African savagery, which for 
over two hundred years had been so kept under by their white 
masters that amiable docility appeared to be the natural charac- 
ter of negroes, all that old inherent savagery was now up, alive, 
fierce, and hungry for the blood of the man they hated with a 
deadly hatred. The civilization they had been taught, the 
Christianity they professed, were totally submerged and swept 
under and out of sight by the tide of rage that rolled up and over 
their black breasts. 


*’Cept for except. 


202 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


So confusing and confounding were the shouts, the songs, the 
jabberings of thick lips, so lurid the glow of their yellow eyes, 
so powerful the heated emanations from so many bodies, so 
uneasy and anxious to prevent a disgraceful tragedy, so power- 
less to act, that Charlmonte and his little party of whites began 
to feel faint, sick and blind. They staggered against each other 
and showed a tendency to sink to the ground. They struggled 
to stand up, and fought to push a way out. They dreaded to 
drop, lest they should be trampled over by an African herd as 
remorselessly as if the herd had been buffaloes, instead of men 
and women. 

At this juncture, as it seemed to the five white men, the whole 
roaring, shouting, moving mob, as it were, was seized by the 
swift wings of a small cyclone and whirled around and around, 
until blind, giddy, gasping for breath, suffocated with heat, sick 
to nausea by the pungent odors peculiar to the black race, deaf- 
ened by the shouts, the execrations, the white men fell in a heap 
and lay in a huddle on the grassy ground, stunned, faint, almost 
insensible. Charlmonte was the first to spring to his feet ; the 
Iresh air revived him. The clear vault of heaven was above 
him, the green trees around — a delicious peace and quiet, cool- 
ness and fragrance enveloped them. From Hades they had 
fallen to Heaven ! Charlemonte looked at his companions. 
There were but three — the prisoner was gone. He understood 
what had happened. From the distance, in the direction of the 
sea, came an ominous sound, a dull, recurring Thud ! thud ! 
thud ! — the sound of five hundred feet tramping on, on, on to 
the cliff that overhung the fathomless sea ! 

Charlemonte was familiar with every foot of ground on the 
island. The cyclone had seized the mob at that point in their 
pathway where the great, broad sea broke upon their vision. 
Was it the sight of the remorseless waves that roused them to 
that sudden fury, making them whirl and swirl so swiftly about 
as to overthrow their central point, seize the man they meant to 
destroy, and rush on to the cliff? 

To fly in the same direction, to fly after those tramping feet, 
after the sound of those dull, recurring thuds, was the swift im- 
pulse of the jmung Southerner. As he neared the cliff, he saw 
groups of white men talking excitedly together. The blacks, in 
a denser crowd, lined the edge of the cliff, talking, shouting, 
howling like madmen. 

“ You can’t save him ! Too late ! Too late ! ” sung out the 
big Caucasian. 

u Let him die like a dog, as he is ! ” hallooed another. 

But- Charlemonte sped on. Fie arrived in time to hear a de- 
spairing cry, and to see a body turning over and over, as it fell 
through the air, then came a splash in the water, and the poor 
wretch sunk out of sight. The next moment the man came up, and 
began a struggle for life. Charlmonte was almost as much at 
home in the water as a fish. , It was the work of a moment to 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


203 


throw off his outer garments and leap over the cliff, to rescue if 
he could. A sudden silence fell on the negroes. This was more 
than they wanted. A swift revulsion swept over them. There 
was not a negro on the island who did not know and like the 
young man. He had grown up among them ; his frank, gener- 
ous ways won their applause and affections. At one bound they 
w r ent back to the feelings of civilization. Springs of sympathy 
burst forth in their hearts. Some of the women lifted up their 
voices and wailed aloud. Some of the men began to bestir 
themselves in search of ways and means of assistance. It hap- 
pened that one of the field hands, called King John, because of 
his great size, had a small fishing craft moored under the cliff, 
hidden in a nook, to keep, as he said, “ Deni good-for-nuffin 
Widgerly niggers from stealin’ it.” It was King John and the 
Amazon who had hurled Hillyard into the water. King John 
field his feet, and the Amazon his head. It was now King John’s 
desire to save his young master. Disappearing down the cliff, 
King John got in his boat and begun to pull for the two men. It 
was an exciting scene. The negroes were wrought up to the 
highest pitch of sympathy and anxiety. Many of the women 
broke out into fervent prayer, some fell to shouting as if at a 
■camp-meeting, and w T hen at last King John returned to the shore 
with both men in his boat, their yells and shouts of joy were as 
loud and fervent as had been their shouts and yells of rage. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

MRS. SINGLETON MAKES LOVE TO THE GUSHING WIDOW FOR HER 
HANDSOME BROTHER. 

Mrs. Tubinger amiably and lovingly responded to her friend’s 
little note, and under the escort of her nephew, the talented 
Blackstone Coke Sharpe, Esq., at an early hour repaired to Mrs. 
Singleton’s residence, radiantly arrayed in pea-green silk, wfith 
pink ribbons fluttering here and there. Mr. Sharpe and his 
affianced went out to a concert, leaving the two widows together. 
Mrs Singleton had come to the determination to push matters 
for her brother as fast as possible, feeling quite confident there 
would be no difficulty on the widow’s part, who was so gushingly 
fervent in praise and admiration of the handsome Arthur, his 
sister believed that she would marry him at a word. The hard- 
est work Mrs. Singleton had was with her brother ; sulking, un- 
willing, and unreasonable as he too often was, she on her part, 
was sometimes tempted to give him up and let him slide on to 
ruin, as certainly he would if left to himself. 

Mrs. Singleton apologized for her brother’s delay in not com- 
ing to them early, on the score of literary labors. She might 
safely pile any amount of literary charges against her brother, 
for all Mrs. Tubingir would know. Mrs. Tubinger was no 


204 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


reader, she never read newspapers or novels, and it never 
occurred to her to doubt Mr. Arthur’s ability to write books, or 
for the newspapers ; she had a rather vague idea on the subject, 
and only on one point was she quite positive, viz: that it was a 
wonderful thing to write a book, a mysterious work which she 
no more comprehended than she comprehended the modus-oper- 
andi of the creation of the world. With Mrs. Tubinger.it was 
an immense task to write a letter once in six months, which she 
did to her three sisters all living in the little village of Canaan- 
four-Corners. One letter had to do for Sister Sharpe, Sister Blox 
and Sister Maddox. 

Mrs. Singleton, who had a very delicate taste in all matters of 
toilet, looked at her friend’s “loud” costume of pea-green silk 
and pink ribbons, with a certain pain to her artistic taste, and 
mentally resolved if ever she was Arthur’s wife, that Arthur 
himself should regulate her wardrobe and tone down its brilliant 
coloring. 

Looking at the widow with a knowing smile, Mrs. Singleton, 
with a little mysterious air, said she had seen something in 
Arthur’s writing-table which fairly took her breath away — she 
never had been so surprised — she never would have had any 
suspicions in that direction if she had not seen with her own 
eyes — she could not doubt, etc., etc. 

The jovial widow was all agog to know what her friend had 
seen — she had no idea what she was talking about, but Mrs. 
Singleton smilingly shook her head and said she hardly dared 
tell — Arthur would be furious — Arthur would tell in his own 
good time, but after a little more hesitation and a good deal of 
pressing on the part of the curious widow, and after exacting 
from the widow a solemn promise that she would never, never 
tell Arthur, Mrs. Singleton said that she had always known that 
her brother greatly admired a certain lady, but she had never 
dreamed that it had gone so far as all that signified. 

“All what ?” questioned the rosy widow, in eager excitement. 

Then it came out after much hesitation, and still further de- 
mands for promises that Arthur should not know that his sister 
betrayed his secret, it came out' that on the day previous she 
had suddenly gone into her brother’s room where he was busily 
engaged writing his book, and quite without any intention of 
prying into his secrets — she never dreamed that Arthur had any 
secrets from her — she took up a sheet of paper and read it, — it 
was the dedication page. 

“The what ?” asked the open-eyed widow, having a rather con- 
fused idea of the nature of dedication pages. 

“The dedication, my dear, he is going to dedicate his book to 
the person he most este'ems in this world.” 

“The person V 

“The lady ,” corrected her friend, smiling knowingly at tho 
gushing Mrs. Tubinger, who turned as red as a peony. 

“The ?” The confused and happy widow was breath- 


/ 


BLACK AND WHITE. 205 

less with the flocd of hope that suddenly swept over her. 

“Yes, my dear, it was a la £) — and when poor Arthur looked 
up and saw my astonished face, his turned as red as a rose and 
he scolded me fearfully, and — and — and — 

The handsome strategist stammered and hesitated and looked 
curiously in her companion’s ‘face, debating in her mind whether 
she might still further rely on the widow’s credulity, whether 
she might venture to go on and finish her flattering little ro- 
mance and get it accepted as solid fact ? The blushing, eager 
face, the open, trusting face decided her. 

“Why do you look at me so — so?” asked the joyous relict of 
the old house-builder, flushing to a deeper red all over her 
round, jovial face. 

“The name I saw on that dedication page — I declare, Amelia, 
it quite took my breath away,” replied the faithful sister, bravely 
going on with hypocrisy ami deception to enrich her brother. 

“ What name ?” 

“Oh, if I dared tell — but Arthur would never forgive me — 
never !” 

“Oh, do tell ! 1 am dying to know — I’ll never breath it to 

Arthur. Did — did he dedicate to — to you f” 

“No indeed ! He does not honor me that much. I always 
knew that he had a great admiration for the beauty and wit of 
the lady, but I did not suspect it had gone any further than 
admiration. I never once suspected that the poor fellow wa& 
head and heels in love. That dedication page told the story, 
poor Arthur was so nicely caught, he could not deny it — he 
couldn’t do anything but blush and scold me.” 

The widow r was radiant, every atom of her body vibrated joy- 
ously. Arthur Singleton was her Apollo, her divinity — she had 
long secretly adored him and was so little exacting as to feed on 
the common-place politeness he paid her — seasoned with his sis- 
ter’s manufactured praises. 

“Do — do I admire the lady ?” she asked, making an effort to 
appear unconscious that she herself was the person indicated. 

“You know her, my dear — you know her quite well, but as to- 
admiring her, I can’t say that you do — at least, not as much, qot 
half as much as her friends do, not the hundredth part as much 
as Arthur does. The trouble with me is, I am afraid the lady 
does not reciprocate Arthur’s feelings — he is so diffident when 
he is in the company of ladies whom he really admires — so timid 
he never shows off to advantage.” 

“Oh, you dear old teaser, !” cried the exuberant widow, over- 
flowing with delightful excitement. “I’m sure you might tell 
me — I’ll keep it as silent as the grave.” 

“You never will give Arthur a hint ?” 

“Never! — on my word, never !” 

“You see, Arthur intends to surprise the lady — -he said to me 
‘The first she shall know of it, will be when she sees the book.’ 


206 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


Indeed, my dear, you must never let him know that you know 
he is writing a book.” ^ 

The widow promised all that was required and waited eagerly 
for the information that would set her heart at rest. 

Mrs. Singleton told her to go and look in the mirror and she 
would see the lady to whom the book is dedicated. The widow 
glowed all over with pride and joy. 

“You are jesting — I know you don’t mean me-?” she said. 

“1 don’t mean any one else. Whom else does Arthur esteem 
as he does you ? If you doubt my word, the very next time I 
go into Arthur’s study, I will steal that dedication and let you 
see it — that is, if you’ll not tell on me.’’ 

This dissipated the widow’s doubts if she ever had any. She 
was radiantly happy. The idea of having her name in a book ! 
What would people say ? — actually printed in a book ! She 
meant to send a copy to each of her sisters in Canaan-four-Cor- 
ners. Sister Sharpe was a great reader. Sister Sharpe’s hus- 
band was a lawyer, they read everything— Sister Blox’s husband 
was a farmer, they didn’t do any great deal of reading. Sister 
Maddox wouldn’t read anything but the Bible and sermons, but 
anyhow she meant to send'a copy of Arthur’s book to each of her 
sisters just as soon as it came out. 

“It is a beautifuly written dedication,” remarked Arthur’s sis- 
ter, reflectively, perfectly convinced that the most extravagant 
romance she could concoct, would pass unsuspected — “a very 
beautifully written thing, my dear, — so chaste, so respectful, I 
think you must have observed, Amelia, that Arthur is naturally 
too diffident where he most wishes to please ; now with persons 
to whom he is entirely indifferent, he shows oft’ to a better ad- 
vantage, he has no push where he loves.” 

The widow’s memory glanced back on the many evenings she 
had passed with this gentleman who was so devoted to her, and 
she was forced to confess that he had not been as pushing as her 
first wooer, Mr. Tubinger, he certainly had not pushed his case, 
with that business-like ardor which characterized the old house 
builder’s wooing. 

“Timidity,” said Arthur’s sister, with a sad air, “is always a 
sign of true love. Arthur is naturally timid, he is full of ro- 
mance ; now with school girls, with Melissa’s friends, he is per- 
fectly at home, quite at his ease. He looks upon them as mere 
children, but where he feels deeply ” 

“Law Cathy !” cried the happy widow. “I really fancied last 
winter that Arthur was quite taken with that dark-skinned 
Island girl.” 

“What an idea! Arthur particularly dislikes brunettes — (the 
widow was fair and florid) — he paid some attention to that girl 
at my earnest wish ; the girl’s family had been very attentive to 
me one summer when I met them at Saratoga. I considered it 
very sweet, very sweet indeed, in Arthur to do the polite at my 
cquest, for I know how tiresome he considers school misses 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


207 


so bread and butterish, you know. Arthur likes women of 
mind.” The widow took all this as matter of fact. 

U I very much doubt,” resumed Mrs. Singleton, reflectively, 
“knowing Arthur’s timid nature where he really loves, I really 
very much doubt if he ever gets up the courage to speak out 
plainly to the woman he adgres. I^told him that he ought to 
write. k If you are too timid to talk, why not write? 5 I said, 'es- 
pecially when he writes so beautifully. What do you think of 
love-letters, my dear? For my part, I’d rather receive a pro- 
posal in writing — not embarassing, you know, and gives you time 
to consider.” 

The blooming and gushing widow fully agreed to this opinion 
and this was the point at which Mr. Arthur’s sister had been 
aiming all the evening. She wished to pave the way for a pro- 
posal by letter from her brother, as the least obnoxious to his 
inclinations and the easiest done. Two days from that Mrs. 
Tubinger received an adoring epistle over the signature “Arthur 
Singleton,” and the engagement was made. Arthur’s sister’s 
next move was to procure as short an engagement as possible. 
Her brother’s creditors were becoming aggressively importun- 
ate, but Mrs. Tubinger was in no great hurry, one o-f the chief 
delights of getting married, in her estimation, was the great num- 
ber of fine clothes necessary, and the grand display to be made. 
Mrs. Tubinger couldn’t possibly fit herself out properly in less 
than three months’ time. 

“My dear Amelia,” remonstrated Mrs. Singleton, “really you 
should consider poor Arthur’s feelings. It isn’t your trousseau 
he wants, my dear, it’s yourself 1” 

Mrs. Tubinger was gushingly happy because her Arthur 
wanted her and not her clothes, but she held to her own way, 
and had the clothes, all the same. Her very soul reveled in fin- 
ery . She wrote to her three sisters in Canaan- four-Corners, in- 
viting them and their families to come up to her wedding. She 
wished both to gratify and astonish her country kin with her 
grandeur. She was very proud of the handsome, aristocratic ap- 
pearance of her lover and wanted her sisters to admire him. Mr. 
Tubinger had been a very good, kind husband, but was not in 
the least like Arthur; Mr. Tubinger’s hands were rough and 
red, Mr. Arthur’s white and smooth ; Mr. Tubinger had a red 
face and red beard, he was broad and stout and short and looked 
like a respectable workingman as he was, Mr. Arthur was slim 
:and delicate and elegant, and never did a day’s useful work in 
his life. . Of course she was extremely proud of this dainty hus- 
band, just as men are more fond and proud of the dainty, slim, 
white-handed girls who never did a useful day’s work in their 
lives, than they would be of girls who roughen their hands with 
work. 

People make a great clamor about the dignity of labor, yet we 
see every day of our lives, how laborers are passed by with in- 
difference, and the idlers preferred because these latter bear on 


208 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


their persons no signs of the rough marks that labor leaves.. 
After the engagement was made and the first interview over, the-, 
chief part of the love-making fell to Mrs. Singleton, who had 
hard work to keep her brother up to the mark. Too frequently 
she had to make excuses for his neglect. The book was a ready 
bulwark to fall back on. Mu, Arthur .now and then performed 
his duty and called on his betrothed ; whenever it was possible, 
he called at such times as she would be at her dress-maker’s, or 
out shopping. Sometimes Mr. Arthur would get the sulks and 
point-blank refuse to visit his fiancee. His sister saw with secret 
apprehension that instead of growing more reconciled to the 
match, more fond of the widow’s society, he grew more morose 
and fretful, and shunned her more than he had done before the 
engagement. 

Mrs. Singleton had serious fears that her friend, trusting and 
blind as she was by nature, would perceive her lover’s reluctance 
and understand its cause. On one occasion, after a lengthened 
period of neglect on the part of her intended husband, the 
widow’s brow was rather more serious than usual and Mrs. Sin- 
gleton set her wits to work to chase the shadow away. 

“He’s torn up that first dedication,” she said. 

“Torn it up ! Why ?” asked the widow, a shadow of suspicion 
on her usually open and cheerful face. 

“Yes, my dear,” replied Mr. Arthur’s sister, affecting not to> 
see the shadow, “he' tore it to fragments ; he did not like it. It 
was ‘To that most accomplished lady, Mrs. Amelia Tubhiger/ 
Now he does not mean to put in ‘Mrs. Tubinger.’ ” 

“He don’t ?” said the widow with a fallen face. 

“No, my dear. Now it is to be, ‘To Amelia, — My Beloved 
wife.’ I like it better — so simple ! so chaste ! But don’t give a 
hint I have told you. He intends it as a surprise — he is going 
to have your copy bound in royal style. He asked me if I knew 
which you preferred — red and gold, or blue and gold.” 

The widow was radiant again. 

It is needless to say in the business of wooing, Mr. Arthur 
found his sister simply invaluable. 

Such was the state of affairs when another short letter came 
from Roma. This gave the good news that the will was found 
and the objectionable step-father gone forever, and — at last — con- 
sent was given that Mr. Arthur might visit the Island ! 

This was evidently written before Mr. Arthur’s last letter had 
reached the girl. To describe his state of mind would be simply 
impossible. True he did not love, or think that he loved, either 
of those wealthy women, but h'e immeasurably preferred tho 
girl. 

“And to think that I might have had her! What infernal 
luck follows me ! Why, she’s worth double as much as this 
odious widow ! Besides she’s lady-like, she isn’t blowsy and 
red-handed, she doesn’t talk loud and gush on a fellow. Good 
heavens ! Cathy i’ts hard to stand that woman. She Hung her- 


BLA CK AND WHITE . 


209 


tself at me the other day and popped a resounding kiss on my 
cheeks before I knew what she was about. ” 

“She’s very amiable, Arthur, she’ll make you a kind, good 
wife.” ’ 

“Confound the good wife,” said Mr. Arthur and stalked out of 
the room. The next day before she was out of bed, he came to 
her door. 

“Cathy,” he said, “I must make a trial for that girl. You 
yourself said if she invited me to visit her, it was as good as an 
acceptance. I must see her ; if she’ll take me, I’ll thro w* aver ’ 
this frowsy widow.” 

“But the letter you sent— she will not forgive that, Arthur. 
How will you excuse it?” 

“How ? Yes, I’ve thought of that. Can I not tell her, — it is 
true — tell her I can not bear to bring her to poverty. Surely a 
man may love a woman and be unwilling to marry her if both are 
poor ? What is more common ? At any rate I want a trial. If 
she likes me, she’ll have me.” 

“And your present engagement?” 

“Let it rest. If I get the girl, the widow’ll shut her mouth.” 

“And if you don’t get the girl ?” 

“I’ll marry the widow just as soon as I get back— you can fix 
up some excuse for my absence — business, etc. Lend me enough 
money, Cathy, you’ll be safe either way. I’ll swear to you I’ll 
take one or the other.” 


CHAPTER XXX. 

IS IT LOVE OR IS IT FANCY ? 

In the happiness of her heart after the happy ending of the 
great auction day, Roma had written a few lines to Singleton, in- 
forming him of the recovery of the will and giving him permis- 
sion to visit her at Ashcourt at his convenience. She did not 
tell her mother that he w r as coming as a suitor for her hand. 

. “It will be time enough to tell Mama further on,” said the 
girl. I will wait until she sees him and begins to like him, but 
to tell her now that she has never seen him, will give her a w r orld 
of anxiety.” 

The plantation fell into its old peaceful ways Roma’s mother 
gained strength daily now that she felt herself secure from the 
interference of the husband she dreaded. That husband, by the 
consent of all parties, had been pensioned off — a respectable al- 
lowance was to be paid him quarterly on condition that he left the 
State of South Carolina and never again stepped his foot in it. 
Roma began to busy herself about the negroes, looking after the 
sick and superannuated the young mothers and the children. The 
born-lady interested herself more about the health of their souls 
than their bodies. 


210 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


One evening as Roma was in her favorite seat that overlooked 
the sea, indulging in day dreams, in which her handsome lover 
figured more frequently than any other male or female, she- 
caught a glimpse of Dandy Damon leisurely returning from the 
village ; as he passed, she called him and inquired if he had any 
letters for her. With his usual affected air, Damon fumbled in 
his bag and- brought up several letters ; setting his head know- 
ingly on one side, he scrutinized their superscripstion, and at 
length presented one to Miss Charlmonte — a square, plain-look- 
ing affair, on which her name was dug in heavy black letters. 
While Roma was looking at this and smiling at the rough chiro- 
graphy which she recognized as Wilmer’s, who had not yet re- 
turned to the Island, the dandy negro, with Ethiopian grace, 
presented her a second letter. 

“ ’Pears like, Miss Roma,” he said, grinning graciously, “as, 
dis is a oncommon nice letter, hit smells o’ vi’lets, hit do.” 

Yes, it smelt of violets — Roma recognized the faint odor. It 
was Mrs. Singleton’s favorite perfume. She remembered that 
that lady’s handkerchiefs, hair, sables, all emitted the same de- 
licate odor. Yet the writing on the back of the letter was not 
the lady’s writing. 

“They are alike,” thought the girl, “brother and sister are 
alike in their delicate taste.” 

Roma waited until Damon was almost out of sight before she 
opened the letter, was it the fear that he might look back and 
detect her eagerness, her palor, her flushes? She held it in her 
hand, her heart beating fast — the square, business-looking epis- 
tle lay in her lap forgotten. At length, when only the birds 
around might see her, she opened it and read, and, as she read, 
a strange change came over her face, a cold, gray palor, her very 
lips grew bloodless. The letter was 'short; she read it slowly 
and then re-read, this time the palor gave place to a flush. It 
was as follows : 

My Dear Miss Charlmonte ( his other * letters began 11 My Dear Roma”) : 1 am 
indeed shocked and deeply grieved at the misfortune that has befallen you. I can 
the more truly sympathize with you under your trying circumstances as / am my- 
self in a similar condition , that is I have recently met with such heavy losses as 
will effectually debar me from a course which I had flattered myself would bring 
me a life-long happiness , I refer , my dear Miss Charlmonte, to the dearest wish 
of my heart which was to offer you my hand in marriage, the sudden change in 
my fortune now forbids me. I could, not bear the idea of the woman I most es- 
teem and honor (in the other letters it was always “the woman I most love) 
coming to that poverty which I must myself face and fight. My regard 
for your happiness is too great to permit of so selfish an act. Wishing 
you every blessing I remain , Your devoted friend 

Arthur Singleton. 

Such were the contents of the violet scented epistle, the other 
lay unheeded in her lap. 

“I am punished — punished,” she said, a few tears gathering 
to her dark eyes and slowly overflowing, “I should not have for- 
gotten dear old Grandfather’s advice, he knew I was not one to- 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


211 


win a real, true love and Wilmer knew — I was a fool and heeded 
not my best friends.’ ’ 

The tears of wounded pride flowed down her cheeks. She 
looked out on the broad sea, she watched the boats skimming the 
waves and deep down in her young heart were the sadest feel- 
ings caused by the thought that she was never destined to win 
that sweetest love which beauty wins, that love which her Cous- 
ins Constance and Charlmonte had found and which beautified 
and glorified the whole earth. It never occurred to her to blame 
the man who had proved himself so mercenary she only blamed 
herself that she had been so easily deceived and she pitied her- 
self as she looked tor ward to a life of unloved isolation. So deep- 
ly was sha absorbed in these melancholy thoughts she did not 
perceive that a pair of earnest, sympathetic eyes were watching 
and a tall form stood near. Her name was called, she turned 
and saw Wilmer. Her eyes brightened, the sadness fled, she 
was very fond of Wilmer’ s society, mentally he suited her. 

‘‘You have just come,” she said, “welcome home, we haVe all 
missed you so much.” 

She made room for him to sit by her side. 

“ All ?” he said gratified at this cordial greeting, “who are the 
all?” 

“Why Mama, Dr. Calyx, Cousin Ed especially though I dare 
say even Miss Keziah and Madam Thebidoux have also missed 
you only they haven’t talked of you as we have.” 

The traces of tears were yet visible, Wilmer asked if anything 
new had occasioned to distress her ? 

Roma did not immediately reply, she hesitated whether she 
should or should not let him know that his instincts with regard 
to Singleton’s character were right. Naturally frank, having 
entire faith in Wilmer’s truth and goodness she put the letter in 
his hand. 

“Read that,” she said, “and see if it is not enough to cause a 
few tears.” 

Wilmer read with a darkening face then flung it down and 
ground it under his heel. 

“Is is possible,” he asked, “that a girl of your sense will weep 
for a soulless creature like that?” 

He seemed to think the letter w'as its author and felt toward 
the irresponsible paper accordingly. 

Roma replied that she did not think she wept for him so much 
as for herself. . 

“But why for yourself? you cannot love so contemptible a 
man — I will not believe it of you.” 

Roma seemed to be reflecting, her eyes were fixed on the dis- 
tant sea, his on her. She musingly replied that she had not loved 
him — no it was not love but she had begun to think she might 
some day, yet it was not that which caused her tears it was 
the memory of what her grandfather had said of her when she 
was only twelve years old that she was too ugly to be loved as 


212 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


'other girls, that her fortune would wreck her life as it had wreck- 
ed her mother’s, she now knew it was of her mother’s unfortu- 
nate marriage her grandfather had spoken, but she did not wish 
Wilmer to suppose she was repining at her fate, the tears were 
dried, they could not again fall for such a cause. She had plans 
for her future life, she meant to find work, she did not intend to 
pass an idle existence. 

The young man rather indignantly, if not angrily, said that for 
a girl of her sense, she had more absurd opinions than any other 
woman he had ever seen ; to fancy that Singleton did not love 
her, because she was not loveable, was, he boldly declared, an 
absurdity, a folly. A man must feel according to his nature. If 
it is not in a man’s nature to love and admire what is lovely 
and admirable, he cannot do it, it is an impossibility to him. 
The mistake lies in those who do not understand his nature, and 
expect of him what he cannot do, just as it would’ be a mistake 
to expect the blind to see. Can a blind man admire the beauties 
of earth, sky and waters ? Some men are afflicted with a moral 
blindness and are incapable of admiring moral and intellectual 
worth. 

“Tki man,” he said, pointing to the letter ground into the 
black soil, with a look and tone as if the letter were the man, 
“that man can love 'nothing but his own base desires. You 
ought to rejoice that the will is lost, since its love saves you from 
him. Poverty of money is not the thousandth part so bad, as 
poverty of love of affection. That man had no love to enrich 
you with.” 

She admitted he had understood Singleton better than she her- 
self had. 

“But you did not even reply to my letter, Roma,” he said, 
feeling he had gained a little ground. Her face lighted up. 

“How could I reply when I only got it. a few moments ago ? 
See, it is unopened. 

She held up the unopened missive that had been delayed by 
contrary winds or careless officials. He eyed it uneasily. 

“And you left my letter unopened to weep over his?” 

“There was a look of pain in his face that appealed to her 
sympathy. 

“You must forgive it, Wilmer,” she said, “it will never hap- 
pen again — that correspondence is ended. I hope you and I will 
be friends for years. Shall I read it now and answer it on the 
spot?” 

He was seized with a sudden fear, he took it out of her hands 
and was about to tear it up, only the most earnest protest pre- 
vented. Then he gave it back and walked away, leaving her 
alone — yet not alone, for he had poured out his very soul in that 
letter, and he waited with a gloomy brow there by the water’s 
brink to know his fate. She told him she would call him after 
she had read it. But she did not call, she sat silent as a statue, 
but for her, the whole world was changed. What magic wancl 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


213 


had moved over the universe ? Why were the heavens so vast 
and beautiful and blue ? Why was the sunshine so bright and 
the trees so. green and the ocean so grand ? Why did all Nature 
seem to radiate life and loveliness? A moment before all the 
world wore a sombre, common-place hue; why ? Because she 
had returned to the oldbelief which had more or less annoyedher 
for six years, that she, was too plain, too unattractive to win 
that sort of love young girls dream of, that love which warms 
and roseates the whole world. And now — now that idea was 
killed at a blow, here was an ocean of the truest, the deepest, the 
most ardent love poured out at her feet. She could not doubt it. 
The date of the letter was that of the great auction sale — the wri- 
ter was in ignorance of the strange events of that day, perhaps was 
still in ignorance, as he had just landed on the Island. Wilmer not 
only told of the great and ardent love with which she had in- 
spired him, but he told her she was the only woman for him in 
the wide world, that had he the power to create a woman, he 
would mould her, mind and body, like Roma Charlmonte ; he 
told her if she cast him off, if she utterly refused his love, he 
would be desolate, forever desolate, for there were no more 
Romas in the world. He also told her that he never could have 
presumed to offer his love and his life to her, had she remained 
the heiress, but now — 

It was in the second reading of this stirring epistle, just at the 
point indicated, that Roma looked up at the sound of footsteps. 
Wilmer stood before her, stern and grave. 

“You would not call me. Am I not, at least, worthy of an 
answer ?” he asked. 

“This is a great surprise to me. I never dreamed of this,’ 5 ’ 
she said, musingly, rather than in reply to him. 

“I saw you did not — is it a shock, as well as a surprise ?” 

“You would never have told me had the will been found ?” 

“I had bidden myself keep silent. A man’s feelings, how- 
ever, sometimes get the better of his judgment.” 

“fiis — -judgment?” 

“Yes ; would it have been wise and well for a poor devil like 
myself to aspire to the hand of a great heiress ?” 

“Singleton did.” 

“Ah !” 

The interjection was exceedingly significant. It seemed to 
scorn a comparison between himself and her former suitor. 

“I hope,” he said, after a little pause, “that it is not all sel- 
fishness in me which makes me rejoice that the will is lost. 
Every time I think of that man and the possibility that you 
would have married him, I thank Heaven you are left penni- 
less ” 

“Yes,” said Roma, thoughtfully, “I feel with you it is better 
the will was lost. I am reconciled to what has happened.” 

“Poverty is not the worst evil on earth,” he rejoined. We 
can fight poverty and gain on it each day, little by little we can 


214 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


overcome it. But domestic misery, a discordant unlovely home, 
is a hell on earth. It is amazing to me how any man, whose 
tastes and opinions impel him to make a choice between women, 
should marry for money. We only want money to purchase for 
ourselves the luxuries and necessities of life. The greatest lux- 
ury on earth is congenial companionship — when tied to an un- 
congenial person for life, though possessed of the wealth of a 
Cresus, we are debarred from securing for ourselves the com- 
panionship we most desire.” 

“Possibly,” said Roma, “those who onty seek money in mar- 
riage have but little choice in women. One woman will please 
them about as well as another.” 

“However that may be,” said Wilmer, “l am very decided in 
my tastes. I want a wife exactly after your pattern, Roma, and 
if you will not take me, I shall give up the idea of marriage, for 
I know I will never find one like you.” 

“But,” said Roma, laughingly, “does it not strike you, Wil- 
mer, as a little comical, as well as unwise to — to — ” 

“Well, what is unwise ? What is comicial ?” he said, pos- 
sessing himself of the hand that lay idly in her lap. “I see 
nothing unwise in loving you to death — provided jrnu tell me I 
am not hateful to you — utterly hateful. Tell me ! Tell me ! 
Tell me!” 

And he kissed her hand rapturously. She drew it away. 

“Surely Wilmer, you do not expect me to listen to a second 
proposal the very minute you found me weeping over the ter- 
mination of the first ? Besides, are you not afraid to risk mar- 
riage with a girl so illy-trained to be a poor man’s wife ? ” 

“A girl of your sense can easity adapt herself to humble for- 
tunes, — but you never could adapt yourself to an unworthy, an 
ignoble nature. If you can only give me one-half as much love 
as I give you, Roma, I will be content for the present.” 

“But not for the future ?” 

“Oh, no ; I shall study to win more. I believe I can win your 
heart, Roma, now that false, yet handsome man is out of the 
way.” 

“You have not asked me anything about the auction yet ? You 
Rave not heard, have you ?” 

“Nothing since I left; I just landed an hour ago, and came 
straight on to you.” 

“Are you not a little interested in the fate of the poor negroes? 
Sit down and I will tell how that wretched auction went off.” 

“Did he sell any of the house servants — any of your especial 
favorites ?” 

“Uncle Tally, Thetty, Damon. Oh, he was very cruel.” 

Wilmer was duly sympathetic, he hoped they had fallen in- 
to good hands. Then Roma told him how her uncles had made 
up a purse and had a bidder there to buy Tally, Thetty and 
Damon. The field hands were knocked down to the traders. 

Wilmer’s grave face and sympathy and perfect faith in 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


215 


the validity of the sale, I am sorry to say, struck Roma, in her 
present happy, light-hearted mood, in rather a ludicrous light. 
She felt an inclination to break out in ^mile's, to beam joyously, 
yet to keep up the play a little longer, she endeavored to pre- 
serve a grave and decorous face. In spite of her efforts, Wilmer 
caught the light in her eyes, the gayety like sunshine ready to 
burst out. He looked at her so intently, so inquiringly, she 
could no longer resist the impulse to laugh out, which she did 
frankly. Wilmer was first astonished, then wounded. 

“What does this mean ?” he asked, with a stern face. “If 
what I have said only excites mirth, I may as well bid you good- 
bye.” 

He strode away again to the water’s brink. Roma was sober- 
ed in a moment. She ran down and begged his pardon, said she 
had not meant to wound him, there was not a man on earth she 
more respected. 

“Confound respect !” he blurted out, impatiently. “I have 
not asked for vour respect, no one can refuse me respect. Any 
negro can respect me. I have poured out my soul to you and 
you laugh in my face.” 

“I did not laugh at you. You do not understand. The situa- 
tion is dramatic. I laughed — it — it made me happy.”. 

11 It — ivhat made you happy ?” 

“The way things turned out. The sale ended so differently 
from all expectation.” 

“How different?” 

“The sale was stopped.” 

“Why — by whom ?” 

“Cousin Ed. discovered it was, illegal. The man had no 
right.” 

“No right ?” 

“None in the world. The will was found.” 

“Then-*-ypu — are — the heiress of Ashcourt?” 

“Now, is* that kind ? Instead of congratulating me, you look — 
the very tone of your voice seems as if you feel that a great mis- 
fortune has befallen me.” 

“A great misfortune has befallen me — if you are set up so high 
beyond my reach, Miss Charlmonte.” 

“Miss Charlmonte ! Is that kind? Why should this thing 
make any difference between friends ?” 

“But we are not friends. I do not ask your friendship-friend- 
ship will not satisfy me. Oh, Roma !” 

He uttered the name with a groan. 

“I do not now wonder that you laughed. No wonder you find 
it amusing— had I known, I would not have made myself so 
ridiculous as to propose to Miss Charlmonte, the heiress.” 

“You wish to withdraw your proposal, then?” 

He made no reply, his eyes were bent gloomily on the ground. 

“I think it very unkind,” she said, suppressing a smile at 
the desperately lugrubrious looks of her lover— “very unkind to 


216 


BLACK AND WHITE. 

deprive me of the only genuine offer I ever had, or ever may 
have.” 

“An offer you laugh at.” 

“I have not laughed at the offer, I laughed at the mistake you 
made.” 

“An offer you disdain to notice one way or the other.” 

“An offer I do not disdain, an offer I respect and appreciate, 
an offer I value as sincere and true and unselfish, as coming 
from a sincere and unselfish heart. But do you really think, 
Wilmer, I ought to begin — even to begin to consider another pro- 
posal on the same day you caught me crying over the disgrace- 
ful termination of the first? You, yourself would despise me- 
for such fickleness.” 

“It would not be fickle — you did not love that man. I know 
love when I see it ; you only thought you might possioly love 
him. You are not fickle, on the contrary you will prove as stead- 
fast as the poles, when you once truly love. I do not ask if you 
love me now. I know too well you do not. All I ask is, if you 
feel that you never can love me, to let me know it; if you feel 
that you may in time love me, let me know it. The bare hope 
will lighten and brighten the world.” 

When they parted, somehow he had that hope, and when the 
girl entered her mother’s room and kissed that pale, but now, 
placid face, she was fondly patted on the cheek and bidden to 
Walk out every day, exercise was giving her a lovely color. 

“And color is very becoming to you, dear,” said that fond 
mother, looking admiringly on her girl. 

Roma glanced at her reflection in the mirror and thought she 
was not so very — very ugly after all. 

“ Some people,” she said, gayly, to herself, “are so stupid, 
stupidly blind, they cannot or will not see the ugliness.” 

Then she asked for Madame Thebideaux and was told she was 
gone to read the Bible to aunt Dinah. Miss Keziah was serenely 
occupied with some sort of sewing. She sewed from habit now 
that the necessity no longer existed. 

“What a good Christian the Madame is,” said Roma, settling 
herself on a stool at her mother’s feet and nestling her head in 
her lap, “and I must tell you, Mama, Wilmer is come back. I 
do not think, Mama, that Wilmer is quite as good a Christian 
as you would like to have him — he is a little too — skeptical — 
sometimes !” 

Did she say this just because she liked to talk to her mother 
of the young man? She had known of his skeptical nature be- 
fore to-day, yet had neyer thought to speak of it to her mother. 

That good lady was alarmed. In her opinion a skeptic 
was in a most dangerous state. 

“Oh, I hope not — I hope not !” she said, looking as if Roma 
had said she feared he had the small-pox or the yellow-fever. 

“I am afraid he is,” said the girl, “I think he ought to see 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


217 


what religion has done for Madame Thebideaux ; he ought to 
look at her case, Mama.” 

“He" ought to read the Bible more/’ said the gentle Keziah. 
“Blair's sermons will bring him round,” said Roma’s mother. 
If anything can bring him to repentance, Blair’s sermornTwill. 
Remind me, Roma, dear, the next time he comes, to ask him to 
read them.” 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

SINGLETON VISITS THE ISLAND. 

Two wedding cards passed each other on the mail route, the 
one going North, the other coming South, the latter invited the 
two Island girls to the marriage of Miss Melissa Mopson and Mr. 
Blackstone Coke Sharpe, Esq., the former invited Mrs. and Mr: 
Singleton and Miss Melissa Mopson to the marriage of Miss Con- 
stance Ashford and Mr. Edward Charlinonte, Esq.; as both these 
weddings were to be celebrated near the same time neither party 
■could accept. It is not our purpose to give any detailed account 
of these two weddings, suffice it there was the usual display of 
white silk and orange flowers, and youth and beauty, both were 
love matches and both loves had run as smooth as a summer’s 
dream, all, four, for the time being, felt quite certain that they 
had taken a step that would establish their life-long happinesa, 
time will show how far they were right. Wilmer did not make 
very rapid progress in his wooing, there were times when he im- 
agined that the girl he loved was perfectly indifferent to him, 
at other times he feared that she had been more deeply interest- 
ed in Singleton than at first he had been willing to believe. At 
the wedding, fancying that she was unusually thoughtful, even 
sad, he ventured to refer to it. 

“Roma you are not thinking of that man ?” 

“What man ?” looking around as if startled from a reverie. 

“The pretender, the handsome, smooth, selfish pretender — 
you do not — love him.” 

“Love him ! I think not, I was thinking of Conny and Ed, how 
absolutely happy they are. It is not often that we see two per- 
sons who have exactly what they want, and all they want — Ed 
and Conny have.” 

“Sometimes,” said the young man in a low, tender tone, 
“sometimes I fear that your imagination was more impressed — I 
will not believe it was your heart — than you will admit.” 

“No,”she said brightening up, “I do not think there are any 
grounds for that fear. I have a tremendous idea of love, I fancy 
it must be the one grand, absorbing, if crossed, tragic and de- 
stroying passion, wrecking one’s life, wrenching one’s heart out 
.of one’s breast, now do I look as if I had endured all that? why 


218 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


* 


Mama said only this morning that I was really growing rosy and 
and fat — imagine a wrecked and wretched girl growing fat!” 

Wilmer smiled down with a yearning tenderness on the slen- 
der, fawn like form, and although he could not perceive any 
strong tendency toward fatness, the gay manner pleased him and 
set his heart at rest. He had gotten over his stiffness toward 
the heiress, after the first momentary fit, he justly considered 
that to give up a woman he adored because she happened to pos- 
sess a fortune would be a folly. Roma saw very little society, 
she had not yet laid aside mourning, consequently there was 
no rival to give Wilmer uneasiness, he had the field to himself. 
The reception of the following note angered and alarmed him no 
little. 

I think I told you, on that first, day of your return when you read that 
letter, that it was in reply to the one I had written informing Mr. S. that 
the will could not be found, consequently that Mama and I were reduced 
from affluence to poverty. Did I not also tell you that before that answer 
came I sent another letter informing him that the will was found, and our 
troubles ended, and at the same time giving him permission to pay a visit 
to our Island and Ashcourt ? Well, he has come ! he is at the village inn 
and has sent me a note asking an interview. As I had invited him to 
come to Ashcourt I feel bound to receive him hospitably, so have persuad- 
ed Mama to send him an invitation to spend three days at Ashcourt, from 
next Wednesday to the following Saturday, at the same time I sent a note 
regreting that my engagements would not permit me to receive him at an 
earlier time than Mama mentioned. As we do not wish this traveled gen- 
tleman to find Ashcourt dull, we shall ask Conny and Cousin Ed to give us 
their charming company for those three davs,and dear old Miss Susan is 
already here. You are a great favorite of Miss Susan’s, she admires your 
wisdom, but you must be careful not to shock her with your heretical 
views. Miss Susan does not like controversy on theological subjects, she 
cannot see why every human does not think exactly as she does on relig- 
ious questions. Our old neighbor Mr. Widgerly, whom you have not yet 
seen, nas returned from a prolonged visit to his daughter in Tennessee 
will also be with us. Mama particularly requests you to give us as 
much of your valuable time as you can. You will have your same room 
next to the one Dr. Calyx occupies — I mention this as an inducement, I 
know how fond you and he are of discussions. Yours truly, 

Roma . 

“What infinite depths of self-conceit must a fellow possess to 
seek a girl after writing such a letter as that fellow wrote ! Con- 
found his impudence! I’d like to get a chance to kickhim!”was 
Wilmer’s outburst. Then he swore he would not go near the house 
while the fellow was in it, he did not wish to see him, he did not 
wish to speak to him. Why was the fellow invited? He could see no 
necessity ; necessity, indeed ! the man should not be allowed to 
step his foot in the house. Feeling thus Wilmer seized the first 
opportunity to go to Ashcourt to tell Roma that he would not 
come. He found Roma and her mother with a visitor, a little, 
lively old man, with a bald head, and a thin fringe of red, curling- 
hair around the base of it. This little, lively old man, their 
neighbor Mr. Widgerly, was descanting in the most cheerful way 
on tho loneliness of Widgerly Place, not a white woman in the 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


219 


house, nobody to pour his coffee, nobody to get his slippers and 
turn down the bed clothes when he wanted to go to bed. Mr. 
Widgerly was a widower of many years standing, as long as 
his daughters were with him he got on very well, now he declar- 
ed he could no longer endure his solitary life, he meant to find 
a wile as soon as possible. Roma asked how old must the lady 
be ? Her mother wanted to know if she meant to apply for tho 
place ? 

“No, no !” replied the girl, “I know Mr. Widgerly would not 
have me, but I do know a lady who will just suit. How old. 
Mr. Widgerly, must the lady be?” 

“Anywhere, my dear, from forty to sixty-five — I am seventy, 
I must have her a little younger than I am or I may find myself 
a widower again.” 

“Then we can suit you, we have the nicest, nicest old lady of 
sixty-five, you shall see her when you come Wednesday. Oh ! 
I know you will immediately ask her to become the mistress of 
Widgerly Place.” 

“Who on earth do you mean, Roma?” asked her mother as- 
tonished at the high spirits of the girl. Roma saw and felt the 
change in Wilmer, the stern, reproachful look, and read aright 
the cause, she knew he had come to scold her about Singleton, 
why should he scold? Did he distrust her? Could he possibly 
think she could be cajoled by the man again? These thoughts 
excited her and set her to talking in that way. 

“Whom do I mean? Mama do you not know? There is but 
one Miss Susan in the world, Miss Susan Stokes. Mr. Widgerly 
I feel confident she will have your slippers always ready, and put 
the precise quantity of cream in your coffee, and turn the cover 
down the moment* you feel sleepy. I beg you, Mr. Widgerly, 
do not propose to any one else until you have seen our Miss Su- 
san.” 

The little old man agreed and soon after took his depart- 
ure. 

“Mama,” said the girl still in that unusual state of excitement 
“I feel a presentiment that we shall have a romance, a real ro- 
mance, a grand love affair, and then how charming their ages! 
they suit so well, she sixty-five, and he five years older just the 
right difference between a man and a woman.” 

Wilmer sarcastically remarked that he did not know Miss 
Oharlmonte meant to set herself up as a match-maker. 

“Oh, I’m not going into the business generally,” she replied, 
pleasantly, appearing not to observe his dark looks, “but this 
particular case is too tempting. Here is Miss Susan taking rest 
for the second time in her life ; Conny and I brought her down 
to give her a long holiday We did not think at the time how 
dreadful it would be for her to go back to that little garret room 
which looks out on the roofs of houses, and set down to stitch — 
stitch — stitch from morning until midnight. I know she dreads 
it, only she is too cheerful to say so, and but this morning she 


220 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


said it was time she was going back, idleness was spoiling 
her, and Mama told her there was no need for her to go back, 
she could find enough to employ herself on the Island if she felt 
like work.” 

“Pm sure — we are glad to have her,” said Roma’s mother. 
4 ‘She’s a very nice old lad}^ — she need not work unless she likes 
to ; but as to marrying, my dear, she’s too old.” 

“She is not as old as Mr. Widgerly. Why, Mama, it is the 
age that makes it lovely. Any day can furnish young lovers', my 
lovers will be out of the common. I do hope j r ou will approve 
Mama. Mr. Wilmer looks as if he meant to oppose, perhaps he 
has hopes of Miss Susan, himself.” 

Mrs. Oharlmonte left the room and the scolding began. 

“Why did you invite that man here after that insulting letter?’ ’ 

Roma did not think the letter insulting, or intended to be in- 
sulting. The letter she had sent him, invited him to visit Ash- 
court. She felt bound to receive him hospitably. 

“But three days— three whole days ! Why, after that I dare 
say he would like to put up at the village inn for a month or 
two and come over every da,y,” 

“Of course,” replied she, beamingly. “Where can he find a 
lovelier place than Ashford Isle to idle in a month ?” 

“The impudence of the man ! The intolerable, insulting im- 
pudence ! In effect, it is saying that he thinks you weak enough 
to pocket his insult, and take him whether he wants you, or your 
money. I came to — thank your mother for her kind invitation 
and to — decline !” 

“Decline? Pray, why? 

“It will be too disagreeable to be under the same roof with 
that man, unless I had the privilege of — kicking him.” 

“No ; you cannot have that privilege in Ashcourt, besides he 
is a very courteous, and a very handsome gentleman, and has 
never wronged you. You must treat him politely. Mama will 
be disappointed if you do not come ; we have such an odd set of 
people with us, the Calyxes and Madame Thebideaux, and Miss 
Susan, that we cannot invite our city friends, they would not har- 
monize , the CaWxes go away in a week. B^y the way, Cousin 
Ed and I have agreed to donate five thousand each, to the 
Inebriates’ Cure, that Calyx intends to establish in New York. 
Madame Thebideaux is to serve as matron — so you must come.” 

“Do you wish it ?” 

“Would I ask you if I did not,?” 

“But you have asked the other man also. Did you also wish 
him to come ?” 

“Certainly.” 

“Then I stay away. Besides it would be dangerous to have 
me here. Some fine morning your handsome guest might fail 
to put in his appearance, and when you sent to his room, a cor- 
oner’s inquest might be in demand.” 


BLA CK AND WHITE. 


221 


Notwithstanding all opposition, the young man finally pledged 
himself to be on hand. 

When Mr. Arthur read the two notes, Roma’s and her moth- 
er’s, the latter inviting him to come to Ashcourt for three days, 
the other excusing herself for not seeing him immediately, they 
greatly puzzled his brain. He had expected either to be well re- 
ceived or repulsed with resentment. This politeness, yet indif- 
ference, he could not understand. 

“She is not offended — that is sure,” he said to himself, “were 
she offended, she would not ask me for three days, but why put 
off seeing me ?” 

He was to go to Ashcourt on Wednesday, it was Sunday when 
the note came. Why did she — Roma, not see him at once ? What 
was he do with himself in all that intervening time ? He wished 
lor his sister — Cathy would know exactly what it meant. After 
puzzling his brains trying to understand the mysteries of the 
female mind, he resolved to hire a sail-boat and sail along the 
coast to kill time. After that excursion, he rested himself, read a 
movel and then wrote to his sister the following letter: 

Ashford Isle, November 21st, 18 — . 

My Dear Cathy : — Here I am on this confounded Island, lodged 
in a confounded little room in a village of a hundred or so people, 
most of them market gardeners and fishermen. I feel as if I were entire- 
ly outside of the world, among an outlandish people, and I don’t know 
what to thin£ of the way I am treated. I wish you were here to give me 
your opinion of affairs. I have not yet seen Roma. I wrote as you ad- 
vised, the first thing after landing, requesting an interview. Two very 
polite notes came in reply, one from the young lady, the other from the 
old. The latter invited me to Ashcourt for three days, the former said 
she regretted that she could not see me before the time mentioned by her 
mother. Is not this odd ? What does it mean ? Is she sulking at me on 
. account of that last letter ? Or has she the good sense of a woman of the 
world? Does she recognize the fact that a gentleman in my position can 
not marry without money? Do you think it possible that she never got 
that letter? I would give a good sum to know. If she never got it, I 
think all will be plain sailing. The more difficulties in the way, the more 
I am urged on ; her fortune is immense; she is a bigger prize than the 
widow; the man who went sailing with me sets her down for at least five 
hundred thousand, and the best thing .about it she is absolutely hei 
own mistress, — there is no guardian, and no division. What a trump 
she is! I shall work hard to win her, — but what an odd thing to put me 
off three days! How did she suppose I could get through these three days 
in this abominable little fishing village? However, to-morrow at four p.m, 
I am expected. They lunch at twelve and dine at five. I shall keep 
you posted. Answer this at once. It may happen that I shall have to 
remain longer than I had anticipated, but the prize is worth the time and 
trouble. Are you bothered by the damned trades people ? 

Your affectionate brother, 

Arthur Singleton. 

At four on the appointed Wednesday, the guests began to as- 
semble in the large Ashcourt drawing room. Constance, who 
had not seen Roma since the arrival of Singleton, went to her 
^chamber with an anxious face. 

“Roma, dear, why is that man here ?” 

•“What man, my darling?”' 


222 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


“You know very well that I mean Mrs. Singleton’s brother.” 

“Oh! I have not seen him yet; perhaps he will inform me 
when he comes.” 

“Roma, you know why he comes. You are not capdid.” 

“I think — I do not know , I would not like to swear it before a 
court of justice, but I think he comes to see me.” 

“And pray, who told him he might come? Is it not rather 
bold to push himself on our Island in this way ?” 

“Would you call it bold if I invited him?” 

“Oh ! has it come to that ? Oh ! has it gone that far ?” wailed 
her cousin, the tears starting into her lovely eyes. “ What does 
Aunt Caroline say about it? Is Aunt Caroline willing ? Oh, 
Roma ! . Roma !” 

“Why should not Mama be willing?” replied Miss Roma. “I 
told her that his sister was very kind and attentive to us when 
we were in New York. Mama, of course, thought it behooved 
her .to show some appreciation. 

Now, Conny, dear, I am dressed ; I want you to come with 
me to Miss Susan’s room. I mean to dress Miss Susan in 
style.” 

Roma explained her plans with regard to Mr. Widgerly and 
Miss Susan, but her cousin was too anxious to take much interest. • 

“Miss Susan, Conny and I have come to be your maids. We 
mean to make you lovely.” 

“My dears, I have on my very best dress and cap ; I can’t do 
any better.” 

She wafe a tall, slim, white-faced old lady; mild and placid in 
appearance, with a nose and chin showing a friendly desire to 
get near to each other. Her dress was of some soft gray woolen 
stuff, her cap white, and her white hair parted over her pale fore- 
head. Roma brought white lace and black lace, and pale purple 
ribbons, and by & tasteful arrangement of these ornamental articles,, 
she transformed the respectable looking sewing woman into a 
lady-like looking person. Miss Susan had a natural air of re- 
finement. 

“Please yourselves, dears,” she said, smiling, as the young 
fingers put a touch here and there. “I’m sure it’s all like a 
dream down here any way — for forty years no one has ever 
cared how I looked, and I have not had time to care.” 

Roma stepped back to get a good view of the effect. “She 
looks like a picture, Conny,” she said, admiringly, “quite like 
a picture of some of the oid French countesses we used to see in 
New Orleans.” 

“Or one of the oid nuns or saints we saw in the Cathedral,” 
said Conny, her pretty head on one side, as she critically con- 
templated the smiling old lady. 

“Miss Susan has as good a right to be a saint as any nun in 
the world,” said Roma, proud of the improvement she had 
wrought, “Saint of the Needle we might call her, or Sister of 
Perpetual Toil — either would suit her”’ 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


223 


“No, no, my dears, I am only a poor sinner. I feel that the 
Lord has been very good to me, my dears, very good. I have 
never had, o beg my bread, thank Heaven! I have always 
been able to earn my living. I am very thankful.” 

Dr. Calyx had become quite a favorite with Roma’s mother; 
his mesmeric power, she thought, relieved the nervous pains and 
spasms to which she was liable, brought on by the terrible trials 
she had endured since her father’s death. 

It was chiefly on her mother account that Calyx prolonged his 
stay beyond the time originally intended. When Roma and 
Miss Susan entered the drawing room, Calyx and her mother 
were conversing together, Miss Calyx and Madam Thebideaux 
sat side by side calm and serene, now and then exchanging a 
whispered word. The latter lady had her strip of cambric in 
hand, industriously stabbing it with the little ivory stiletto, 
making little holes which she worked around under the impres- 
sion that she was converting the cambric into an ornamental 
piece of embroidery. 

We wish some philosopher would consider this question. 
What change would it have made in the condition of women, 
therefore of humanity itself, had women never fallen into the 
mania for embroidery ? There is no telling the centuries and 
centuries ahead of what we now are, we might be, had woman's 
time been better employed. 

There is no telling the number of lives that have been stitched 
into embroideries ; there is no telling the number of aches and 
pains, the dyspepsias, failing eyes and weak spines for which 
embroidery is responsible. When Madam Thebideaux was not 
praying and exhorting, she was embroidering. She was not 
fond of reading — never read any but religious newspapers, and 
those from a sense of religious duty. She considered all politi- 
cal and secular papers as vehicles of sin, leading to worldliness, 
of mind. 

Roma presented the Sister of Perpetual Toil to the little old 
gentleman who was on the watch eager for her entrance. He 
bobbed up to meet her and greet her with the cheeriest of smiles, 
and the cheerfulest of bows ; his little old head breaking out in 
benevolent moisture, as he beamed upon the ladies. Mr. Wid- 
gerly was in evening attire, a swallow-tail coat, white vest with 
gold buttons, and a button hole boquet. 

“He really looks quite bride-groom like,” thought the young 
lady, as he walked off, Miss Susan’s arm comfortably and tight- 
ly tucked into his, and placed her on a sofa in a corner, and him- 
self by her side. 

Roma, Ed Charlmonte and his lovely bride formed a group 
in the center of the room, around a table on which lay some fine 
engravings, when Dandy Damon in all the glorv of a blue broad- 
cloth, swallow-tail coat, crimson waist-coat, and white gloves, 
and shining wool piled on top of his sugar-loaf shaped head, an- 
nounced with a loud voice : ■ 


224 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


“Mr. Arter Singleton, New Y ark . 1 5 

Roma met her guest with smiling cordiality and extended 
hand, welcoming him to Ashcourt. Singleton was looking re- 
markably handsome and happy. Roma’s greeting put him at 
ease, the fears which had haunted him that she resented his last 
letter, that she would meet him haughtily or coldly, were dissi- 
pated in a flash. After asking about his sister’s health, Roma 
proposed to present him to her mother. 

“Mama will receive you like an old friend,” she said, pleasant- 
ly. “Mama has heard so much of you from Conny and me, she 
feels very grateful to your sister for her kindness to us. 

“Mama permit me to present to you Mr. Singleton.” They had 
crossed the floor and were standing in front of Mrs. Charlmonte ’s 
sofa. Mrs. Charlmonte was languidly conveying to Calyx her 
views on the subject of original sin, and the best method of over- 
coming it. Catyx rose and gave way to the new comers. Mrs. 
Charlmonte greeted him with the friendliest smile, and offered 
him a place at her side. Singleton’s first thought was how beau- 
tiful she must have been ! His next — but the next was driven 
to utter and everlasting oblivion. Cold iroil seemed to be run- 
ning down his spinal column, succeeded by hot flashes as if on 
fire within, and the flames were about to burn out through 
every poie. His e}^es had met a serene pair of blue orbs which 
seemed to be contemplating him with a mild and calm curiosity. 
Apparently satisfied, the blue eyes fell to the sewing in her hand, 
and the owner continued to stab little holes and stitch 
around them as unconcernedly as if in the person of Singleton 
she saw an entire stranger. Not so with the gentleman, he sat 
down there within three feet of the one woman in the world 
whose presence he most disliked. He could not get rid of the 
thought that every word he uttered would reach her ears. Mean- 
while the cold and hot flashes afflicted his spine, his handsome 
face was pale, his contenance betokened agitation; all his grace- 
ful self-possession was put to flight. 

Roma observed the agitation, and attributed it to anything but 
the right, cause. Walking away, she left him with her mother. 

“Why is she here ?” was the question that tormented Single- 
ton’s mind as he tried to appear interested in the gentle remarks 
of the lady by his side. 

“Why and how came she here ? She, the street vagabond, 
the drunkard, the outcast — unworthy to entei a decent house.” 
Then his thoughts reverted to the change in her appearance — 
the change for the better. What had wrought this change? 
What had brought back the freshness of youth, the appearance 
of innocence? Her manners had the quietness and self-confi- 
dence of the woman who respects herself, and is respected by 
others. The sight of this woman confused and confounded him. 
It was with difficulty he could listen and reply sensibly to his 
beautiful hostess. 

When dinner was announced, he took Mrs. Charlmonte in and 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


225 


sat by her side ; he had hoped that Roma would fall to his care. 
Wilmer’s face grew radiant as he saw that Roma was left to 
him. 

“This is indeed good,” he said, as they followed the rest. “I 
hardly hoped, indeed I feared that you might fancy it behooved 
you to honor him .” 

‘‘Have I not? Is it not honor to escort the lovliest woman in 
the State. Have I not .allotted him to my mother ? Do I not 
honor him more than all others?” 

It was a delightful party for all save one ; poor Singleton’s joy 
was turned to gall by the presence of the woman introduced to 
him as Madam Thebideaux. The silent serenity of this lady, 
her great calm, watchful blue eyes, exerted a peculiarly unhappy 
effect on the handsome Arthur. She sat directly facing him ; he- 
could not avoid her eyes, their satisfied serenity irritated and 
annoyed him. He would have been far better pleased had she- 
also felt confused, had she been ashamed to meet his eyes, or 
had she appeared to be conscious that she was out of place in a 
respectable house. 

All this Mr. Arthur thought he should have felt, and none 
of this, she seemed to feel. It was unnatural ; he could not un- 
derstand it. 

“Confound her impudence !” he thought. “It realty seems as 
if she is looking down on me, as if I were the one out of place.”" 

Roma had a sweet voice and sang simple ballads in a way that 
charmed Wilmer, but Singleton’s cultivated ear detested ballads.. 
He liked Italian music, operatic airs, etc. Roma had discovered * 
during her visit to Singleton’s sister that her singing did not 
please him, and she had given up singing in his presence, yet now 
at Wilmer’s request she went to the piano and sang all the old bal- 
lads he called for, as much to Wilmer’s pleasure as to Singleton’s- 
annoyance. 

“The country bumpkins!” said the accomplished gentleman to- 
himself, as he eyed Wilmer standing by the piano. ‘“Why does 
he not provide himself with a hand organ and grind out his own 
music ? It would exactly suit his ear. Blaine’s girl can really 
sing.” 

The next moment “Blaine’s girl” was asked to take Roma’s 
place at the piano. When Singleton saw the Blaine girl, who,, 
by all the customs and laws of civililized society, ought at that 
moment to have been kicked out in the street as unfit to breathe 
the air of respectable homes — when he saw her, calm, self- 
poised, serene, without a blush, without a tremor to show that 
she felt her unworthiness, walk up to the instrument and sweep 
over its keys her large white fingers, he began to think he had 
fallen into a strange and troubled dream, from which he would 
presently awake and find himself in real life once more. 

“ Will she sing.the old songs I once begged her to sing ?” was 
his thought ; “the old, passionate love songs that once so stirred 
my blood? How could he listen to the languid lady by his 


226 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


side? How shut his ears from the sounds, his e} r es from the 
sights, his memory from the thoughts?” He was perplexed and 
amazed. Miss Keziah, who sat near the piano, softly whispered a 
request to the “Blaine girl” to sing her favorite hymn. Single- 
ton’s straining ear heard the request. He eyed the little mild 
creature as if she were an odd sort of animal. “What a strange 
menagerie of beasts this girl gathers about her,” was his reflec- 
tion, and he further thought that as soon as he had control of 
her and her affairs, her drawing room would assume a different 
aspect. 

Meanwhile, the “Blaine girl’s” face assumed a reverential ex- 
pression ; her eyes rolled up toward the ceiling, she lifted her 
voice, that full, clear, silvery voice, and sang a Methodist hymn. 
Miss Keziah’ s favorite, the one that had consoled her through 
all her trials and tribulations, through the pinchings of poverty, 
through the scorn, indifference, or contempt of the rich and the 
proud : 

“ When I can read my title clear 
To mansions in the skies, 

I’ll bid farewell to every fear, 

And wipe my weeping eyes.” 

And so on through a dozen verses, to the blank amazement 
and torture of the sensitive and fastidious gentleman who had 
cultivated his taste in the operatic schools of Europe. Mr. 
Widgerly and Miss Susan, who were also Methodists, were ear- 
nest in their praises ; with a little encouragement from the mis- 
tress of the house, they would have utilized the occasion and 
turned it into a prayer meeting. Never had our handsome and 
fastidious friend spent a more uncomfortable evening. Not 
once did he find a chance for a private word with Roma, who 
flitted about, apparently in the happiest spirits, neither seek- 
ing or shunning him, and when they parted for the night, her 
dark eyes beamed on him in so friendly a way, he went up to his 
room with a feeling of confidence that all things crooked in his 
affairs would be straightened on the morrow. How he fared in 
the effort to “straighten matters” may as well be told in his own 
words, as he related it to his sister on the following night in the 
following letter: 

Ashcourt, November 23d, 18—. 

Dear Cathy: — If I was in a peck of trouble and a bushel of doubts, 
when I last wrote, I am now in tons and tons both of troubles and per- 
plexities. Everything down here on this confounded Island is so differ- 
ent from our ways, that sometimes I’m half convinced that it’s all a 
dream .and there is no reality about it. Confound me if I can understand 
anything or any person. These people are only half-civilized. They 
know nothing of the forms of good society ; yet, in a certain way, they 
live grandly enough. Such a set of odd fish as Roma has gathered into 
her house, you never saw r in all your life among people who make any 
pretensions to good society. Then, the conduct of the girl herself is a 
puzzle. I can’t make out what she’s up to ; she received me with great 
cordiality, that is certain. She presesented me to her mother in the 
friendliest way. (By the way, if her mother had the money, I don’t 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


227 


know but that I would prefer her to the daughter. She’s a confounded 
sight the best looking, and wouldn’t be so set up in her own ideas.) 
Nothing could be better than the way both ladies treated me I began to 
feel quite safe, quite certain that she was not offended, and hoped that 
she never had got that devilish letter which yon made me write, but — and 
here comes the aggravating part of the whole lousiness; she seemed to have 
forgotten that I had ever made love to her. I did not once get a chance 
to say a word in private, but I could cast meaning glances, and, by the 
Lord, Cathy ! I might as well have looked love at the dog irons, for all 
the effect it seemed to have. She positive!}' did not appear to know 
what I was at ; just rattled on in the pleasantest way, talking to all, and 
on everything that came up. She has greatly improved since you saw her, 
is more womanly, more graceful and easv in manners; but — and here 
comes in the mysterious puzzle. Whom do you suppose I. found staying 
here as a guest? — actually a guest, apparently on terms of perfect equal- 
ity with the ladies of the house? Blaine’s girl, that creature I saw in 
the streets of New York a few months ago ; a drunken outcast. It is a 
mystery to me how she came into this house, how she has gotten up 
from the dreadfully low state she had sunken to. To look at her now you 
could hardly believe that she had ever been a vagabond of the worst 
stripe. She has become extremely pious ; prays and sings with the ne- 
groes, teaches Sunday-school, and, if asked to sing, lifts up her splendid 
voice in such things as : 

“Hark ! from the tombs a doleful sound, 

Mine ears attend the cry ; 

Come all ye sinners, view the ground, 

Where ye must shortly lie.” 

And this is the sort of singing Roma permits to the torture of civilized 
ears. When I left the drawing room last night we parted in so friendly a 
way, I thought I would surely be able to get a word in private to-day. 1 
have not succeeded ; not that she shuns me, but that others are always 
about me. Those abominable blacks make continual demand on her time 
and attention. The house is full of the most absurd old maids you ever 
saw, and strange as it may seem, Roma appears to delight in their 
society. If I am ever master of this castle, there’ll be a grand revolution. 
When I went down to breakfast this morning, Mrs. Charlmonte invited 
me to sit next to her, which put me also next to her daughter. 

“Yes, do, Mr. Singleton,” said the latter, brightly, “I saved this place 
for you ; if you are handy and good-naturod, you may help me pour the 
coffee.” 

So I sat between the mother and daughter, well pleased at the progress 
I was making and would have been better, but for that outragious Blaine 
girl who sat. directly in front of me, her great eyes now and then fixed on 
me in a way I did not like. Confound me, Cathy ! if she doesn’t look for 
all the world, exactly as if I were the one out of place and imposing my- 
self on a respectable family ; —that’s the impudence of such creatures. I 
long to divulge her true character to the people on whom she imposes by 
her affectation of piety, but hardly dare to, lest she should have the 
audacity to make accusations of one sort or other against me. After 
breakfast, Roma proposed a horseback darty to show me the Island and 
the best sea-views. I acceped gladly, thinking I would find my opportun- 
ity for a private word. The horses were out by eleven o’clock. Charl- 
monte and his pretty wife, the two cub-doctors, who seem to be at home 
in this house, though, for what earthly reason I can’t see, the Blaine 
girl, myself and Roma made np the party. I wondered that Roma did not 
insist on the two old mummy maids, Miss Stokes and Miss Calyx, going 
with us. I suppose they would have done so, had they been able to sit on 
a horse and hold the bridle. However, off we started. Now I had cer- 
tainly counted on riding with Roma. Did I do it ? Not a d d bit more 

than the others, We all rode in a cluster— not pairs. The beach is wide 
and sandy, we galloped along in the face of a delightful breeze from the 


228 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


sea, but I got no chance to speak. At length on our return I challenged 
Roma to a race. She rides like an Arab of the desert, fearlessand grace- 
ful ; off we started down a lane that led through rows of negro cabins, 
her horse was fleet as the wind and she kept ahead of me a few yards, un- 
til all. of a sudden she drew rein before a little cabin, in the yard of which 
were about a score of negro children, all the way from mushy babyhood 
to twelve or thirteen years old. She sprung to the ground, the little black 
imps crowded up around her, chattering and grinning like so many bab- 
oons, as she dealt out to them chunks of gingerbread which she carried 
in a satchel bag on her neck. By the time she was ready to remount, the 
rest of the party had ridden up and the last one dutifully waited for her 
as if it were absolutely incumbent upon them to Keep her in sight every 
moment ! I earnestly wished the rising tide might sweep them out into 
the sea, but the sea was not so obliging. On our way back to the house, 
one of those impudent cub-doctors pushed himself up and began a dis- 
cussion with Roma, she’s always ready for discussions, whioh I consider 
very unlady-like, and positively, Cathy, before I knew it, I found myself 
riding by the side of Blaine’s girl ! You can’t begin to imagine my feel- 
ings ! What to say or do, or how to look, I did not know. It was h d 

unpleasant ! And to make it more so she kept up that high and mighty 
moral reproving sort of way which she put on since she’s" turned pious, 
and looked as if she thought I was the moral leper and ought to be asham- 
ed of myself and not she. I never spoke a word. She turned her big, 
blue eyes on me. I looked away out on the boundless sea and we went on 
in silence until, just as we hove in sight of the others, I thought it best 
to appear to be on friendly terms, so I said, pointing to the ocean and the 
sail-boats sailing by : 

“Beautiful scene, Madame — Thebideaux.” 

She turned her great bine eyes calmly upon me with that sort of re- 
proving expression so exasperating and replied solemnly, 

“Very beautiful, Mr. — Singleton.” 

Now, what the devil does this woman mean ? Is she against me? Will 
she try to set the heiress against me ? Thus, you see, Cathy, what a 
curious fix I am in. One whole day of my visit has gone and ho progress 
made. I must come to an understanding to-morrow. 

Your affectionate brother, 

Arthur Singleton. 

The second day it rained all day. Every one remained in 
doors ; reading, talking and music passed the hours away. 
When Singleton retired that night he was in no good humor, es- 
pecially was he wrathful with Madam Thebideaux. The watch- 
ful look in her eyes encaged him, the quiet way in which she 
managed to keep by Roma’s side enraged him. If he found 
Roma in a corner, or on a sofa alone and joined her, up would 
sail the woman he most detested, or placidly, and with an inno- 
cent air, plant herself near the heiress, making some inquiry 
about one of the sick negro, cr some proposition of a beneficial 
character which she proposed to carry out. Singleton wondered 
if Roma did not see that this woman was doing her best to pre- 
vent privacy between them, yet she did not seem to see. She 
always receives Madam Thebideaux with respect, and listened 
to her with attention. Never was an elegant gentleman so con- 
founded and confused by the unaccountable 'conduct of the odcl 
guests assembled in Ashcourt. On the morning of the third 
day as all the company were on the porch, enjoying the de- 
lightful breeze, Roma was called out by one of the servants, after 


DLAcN AND WH1TE\ 


m 


it short absence she came back with a grave face. She said she 
was sorry, but she would be compelled to leave her guests for 
some hours ; she' had been sent for by Daddy Dick, who was 
very ill ; she was going immediately over to Richland to see 
him. Horses and boats were at the command of any who might 
wish to ride or row. She hoped Mr. Singleton would not find 
the time tedious. 

Throwing all the power he could in his eyes, Singleton mur- 
mured tor her ear alone that the light of the house would be 
gone. 

Roma laughed and hoped not — hoped there would, at least, 
be light enough to enable him and the others to amuse them- 
selves in some pleasant way. 

He replied by wanting to know how far it was to Richland, 
where Daddy Dick lay sick. 

“Six miles .’ 7 

“And you disdain company ?” 

“On the contrary, company disdains me ! I am not so selfish 
as to force any one to accompany me on my visits to sick negroes.” 

“It would not require much force to make me go,” he said, 
meaningly. “I would rather go with you,” he added, in a lower 
tone, “than stay with kings and princes. Will you not let me?'’ 

The question was put in a low tone, but Miss Charlmonte re- 
plied so that all heard : 

“Certainly, if you wish, but I give you warning you will be 
awfully bored. Will he not, Mama?” 

“What is it, dear ?” 

“Mr. Singleton wishes to go with me to Richland. I tell him 
he will repent before he gets half way there.” 

“Perhaps Mr. Singleton likes quiet rides by the sea-side,” re- 
marked the mother, sweetly. 

“Exactly what I delight in,” replied Singleton, exultingly. 
At last — at last he saw his opportunity coming. 

“How do you go, Roma?” asked her mother. 

“In the carriage. There are things to be carried. We start 
in an hour, Mr. Singleton.” 

“I am at your command any moment,” replied the happy 
Singleton. 

Roma went away, but she did not immediately go to her room 
to get ready for the ride; putting on the sun-bonnet that hung 
in the back hall, she ran out at the back door and scampered as 
fast as she could in the direction of Old Dinah’s cabin. She had 
seen Madame Thebideaux put a few delicacies in a basket, along 
with a Bible, and wend her way to Dinah’s cabin for the purpose 
of administering both bodily and spiritual consolation. Arrived 
at the door, she heard Dinah’s groans mingled with the Madame’s 
fervent exhortations to hold fast to the Lord, to submit her heart 
and humble herself and kiss the rod of affliction, etc., etc. After 
waiting a moment for the exhortation to come to an end, and 
fearing there was no hope of that for the next hour, Roma ven- 


280 BLACK AND WHITE . 

tured to interrupt the exercises by knocking loudly at the door. 
The white woman opened it, Roma whispered a few words, in 
her ear, and then returned to the house as rapidly as she had 
left it. 

The carriage stood before the hall door, Tally in command, his 
broad face less happy than usual on account of his daddy’s ill- 
ness. Hat in hand, he waited for his young mistress. The tty 
and Damon brought baskets and parcels of things and stowed 
them away in the carriage. Singleton was on the porch, looking- 
on with a satisfied air. Wilmer, who had heard his request to 
be permitted to accompany the heiress and the heir- 
ess’s consent, stood watching the proceedings with a gloomy 
brow. 

“She is yielding to his influence,” was his bitter thought, 
“she is fascinated by his outside graces ! God ! what a fate for 
a girl like that !” 

Roma came out equipped for the ride, bright and radiant. She 
glanced at the two men and asked Singleton if h e yet intended to 
make a martyr of himself ? He replied that martyrdom was 
what he was escaping — there could be no martyrdom in her com- 
pany. 

“Very well,” she laughed, gayly, “on your own head be the 
consequences. You cannot say I did not give you warning. Can 
he, Mr. Wilmer? You must bear witness.” 

She stepped into the carriage. 

“Does it make you sick to ride with your back to the horses?” 
she asked, as Singleton took his seat by her side. She was -on 
the back seat. 

“Not exactly sick, but if you have no objection, I will face 
them.” 

She' instantly changed and took the front seat with her back 
to the horses. 

“Does it make you sick?” he asked, not liking the move, 
he had counted on having her by his side all the way. 

“Not the least. It never affects me.” 

“But why do you take it — why abandon this seat? Surely, 
there is room for us both. Do you disdain to sit by my side?” 
he questioned, with a wounded air. 

“Disdain? — not the least! No; indeed! How can you ask 
such a question ? You see, Madame Thebideaux can’t bear this 
seat, it makes her deadly sick.” 

“Madame Thebideaux !” 

“I hope you do not object to sitting by Madame Thebideaux?” 
she asked, gaily. Yet it was impossible not to observe the 
change, the utter revolution that his feelings had undergone at 
the mention of her name. He would have retreated even then 
but for the moment he was powerless to act one way or another. 
Disappointment, chagrin, rage overwhelmed him. Roma seemed 
not to be aware that any serious feeling -was aroused. &he bade 


BLACK AND WHITE. 231 

Thetty to beg Madame Thebideaux to come on. They were 
waiting for her. 

“Madame Thebby has so many old pets at Richland,” she 
said, by way of explanation, “she has so many little things to 
get ready to take with her.” 

Singleton managed to choke down his rage enough to speak, 
though there were white dints about his nose, and two deep lines 
between his brows, a sullen anger smouldered in his eyes. 

“Does she always go with you?” he asked, making a desper- 
ate effort to subdue or hide his resentment. 

“To Richland ? Not always, but often ! She’s so good to' the 
old negro dames, reads the Bible to them, prays with them, and 
all that ; they alwavs want to see her. I hope you like Madame 
Thebby ?” 

“Like her ! Why should I not,” he laughed bitter^, as the, 
object of his dislike came toward the carriage, a big basket in 
her hand. Large, fair, calm, serene — filled with holy thoughts, 
she came ; Singleton could have strangled her. She took hen 
seat by his side, apparently as much at her ease, as indifferent, 
as if he had been a dummy. She paid not the slightest atten- 
tion to him, held the big basket on her lap and remarked to Ro- 
ma that it was a delightful day to drive. They went first to the 
overseer’s house, whose wife, a little sallow woman with a 
big fat baby in her arms, welcomed them smilingW, and wanted 
to treat them to fresh buttermilk, which hospitality being de- 
clined, the little sallow mother betook herself to the pleading 
duty of refreshing the fat baby from the fount nature had pro- 
vided for that purpose. 

The piazza running along the front of the house commanded a 
splendid view of the ocean. Roma again warned Singleton that 
he had better give up the intention of accompanying them any 
further on their mission of mercy to the sick. She lecommend- 
that he should sit on the piazza and read until they called for 
him on their way home. 

Roma and Singleton were walking slowly up to the carriage as 
she made the suggestion, the “Blaine girl” was already seated 
in it. She surveyed them calmly as they came up. 

“Do you not agree with me, Madame?” asked the girl. “Do 
you not advise Mr. Singleton to remain here until we come from 
Daddy Dick’s ? We shall only weary him.” 

“No,” replied “Blaine’s girl, ’’ with calm decision, “I do not 
agree with you, Miss Charlmonte. I think that Mr. Singleton 
can do nothing better than take up his cross, not once a year, 
or once a month, but every day and twice a day, until he exper- 
iences a change of heart.” 

This so exasperated poor Singleton, he turned livid with in- 
dignation. 

“A creature so vile as she had been, assume that superior' ad- 
monitory air — ” he came to a dead halt in the path, turn.ed and 
walked off* a little distance to a pomegranate tree laden with 


niAcn A$h wkifs. 


golden fruit. 

“May I pull one, Miss Charlmonte ?” he asked, making a 
strong effort to subdue his anger. 

“A dozen, if y°u like,” she replied. 

“Come and tell me which are ripest.” 

“She went up and pointed out the best apple. 

“Why did you bring that abominable woman ?” he said in a 
low tone as he reached up to pluck the fruit, 

“You did not tell me that you thought her abominable ; how 
was I to know ?” 

“Well, you know now. 1 do hope you will sometimes let me 
speak to you free from her rasping presence.” 

“How odd that you do not like her ! She is a great favorite 
with all Ashcourt, — black and white. But we must hasten on. 
Daddy Dick will feel himself neglected if we delay.” 

Again they got in the carriage. Tally drove rapidly. It was 
finally settled that Singleton should continue the drive on the 
beach aad return in an hour for the ladies. 

“I must have been mad,” he said to himself, as he was whirl- 
ed away, “mad when I fancied myself in love with that 
creature,” meaning the obnoxious born-lady. 

She was now utterly detestable, he had no faith in her. he did 
not believe it possible for any woman to reform after she had 
once sunk to degradation. He had felt it to be almost intolerable 
to sit by her side, the touch of her garments was disgusting, her 
air of superiority filled him with indignation, her presence pois^ 
oned every moment of his life 

The two ladies found the old negro ill with pleurisy and fully 
impressed with the belief that his time had come. 

“De Lawd have called me dis time, Miss Roma,” he said, 
speaking with a labored effort. “I aint got no mo’ hope ’cept- 
in’ to ’bey de Lawd’s will. He am de way an’ de life. He, am 
de strength an’ de ’spote o* dem dat puts der trus’ in his wud.” 

Roma was silent, but Madame Thebideaux responded with a 
fervent exhortation, after which Roma asked what the doctor 
was doing for him. 

“De doctor don’t gin me no ’couragement, Miss Roma,” re- 
plied the old man, “an’. Miss Roma, J don’t want no ’courage- 
men’ ; Ps ready for to go de minute de good Lawd says de wud, 
an’ it ’pears like, Miss Roma, as 1 continally hears ole Master 
a-callin’ of me ; pears like he’s sorter lonesome in de oder wul 
widout ole Dick. You see, Miss Roma, we growed up wid one 
anoder, it natilly follows as he’d feel sorter loss, Miss Roma, 
widout ole Dick. I’s willin’ to go. I’s dat willin for to jine ole 
Master, whar continally keeps a callin o’ me — he do, IVJiss Ro- 
ma, I heers him in de dead o’ de night a-callin of me for ter 
come over to de oder side.” 

Roma’s tears began to flow at the mention of the dear old man 
she had loved so well. 

“I sont for you, Miss Roma,” resumed the old negro, speak- 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


233 


ing with increased difficulty, “bec.oze I’s gwine to see Mas Henry 
noon, an’ I knows, Miss Itoma, as he’ll be axin’ me ’bout you de 
thing, becaze he sot mo’ by you den anv oder pursun on 
disyeath, so I sent to ax you ef you’s got no message ter sen’ to 
your gran’-pa? — as will ’joice his heart to git.” 

The girl sent a loving message which the old man, with child- 
like faith, promised to deliver. 

“I’s knowed ole Master, Miss Roma,” he said, “goin* on nigh 
bout seventy year, man an’ boy. I knowed his natur, Miss Ro- 
ma, from his inerds to his outerds. 1 feels a mose sutten, Miss 
Roma, as he’s sorter loss ober <1ar, dout ole Dick, an’ ’pears like 
1 beers him a callin’ o’ me in de dead o’ de night when de res’ 
o’ de folks is sleepin’ den I feels ’im anear, an’ den I heers ’im 
a-callin’. ’Pears like I heers ’im holler, ‘0, Dick !’ chirp an’ 
crickety as he usent to holler when we was boys, an’ wenta-fish- 
in’ togedder ; den agin I heers ’im, deep an’ solemn-like as when 
we’d growd ole, h-e calls out, ‘Dick DCome wid me !” Den I 
knows, Miss Roma, as my time is nigh at ban’. Ole Master’s 
a- waiting for me an’ I’m a gwine wid him, Miss Roma. We was 
♦ so long wid one anoder, it’s sorter haw'd to part.” 

After the old man had relieved his mind in this way, — his 
daughter and two granddaughters were weeping around him, — 
Madame Thebideaux asked if he would like to hear a chapter in 
the Bible read and then join in prayer and song* This seeming 
to please him, “Blaine’s girl” led the devotional exercises with 
great fervor. While thus engaged, the carriage with Singleton, 
drove up. Daddy Dick’s window was raised and the voices of 
the worshipers went out to his ear, clearest, loudest and most 
fervent sounded the voice of fhe “Blaine girl.” 

The very sound stirred his ire. 

“She dares to pray,” he said, il #ke , the drunken vagabond !” 

It gave him that sort of feeling as if the world was coming to 
an end, as if the very pillars of society were uprooted ; as if law 
and order were dying out or dead. 

Presently the two ladies came out, and stood by the carriage 
while Tallyrand went in to see his father. Roma’s eyes were 
red with recent tears, but her companion’s were unstained. So 
completely did religious fervor till her soul, it seemed to lift her 
up above the weakness of feeling sympathy with the small trials 
of life, the temporary sorrow's of earth. * 

When returning, the situation was slightly changed. Madame 
Thebideaux had the back seat, entirely to herself. Singleton 
sat by Roma’s side on the front, but the change did not satisfy 
him. To be immediately before those calm, conscious eyes, un- 
able to look or speak without their criticial observation, w r as a 
raspring trial hard to bear, especially hard for so irritable and 
impatient a gentleman as Mr. Arthur. They drove home in 
silence. Roma ran upstairs to her mother, leaving Singleton 
and Madam Thebideaux on the steps. The latter looked at the 
former in a way he did not like. 


234 


bLAVK AND WHITE . 


“What do you mean?” he asked, in a tone of suppressed 
anger. “Why do you follow me thus ? What do you wish ?,” 

“Step into the library and you shall know,” she said. 

They went in ; he looked at her in sullen wrath. 

“Why do you pursue me ? Why thrust yourself upon me ? 
I wish nothing to do with you. Can’t you let me alone ?” 

•“What- is your business here — in this house?” she asked, 
ignoring his angry queries and putting her own with a confident 
air. 

Singleton flushed red with burning anger. 

“I rather think,” he haughtily replied, “I might, with more 
propriety,. ask what brings you to this house — you?’' 

There was a deal of bitter scorn in the “you.” 

“That is of no importance,” she replied, “my presence or 
absence will harm nor benefit no one in this house — yours might. ’ ’ 

‘ f What do you mean ?”$ 

“What I say, that your presence might harm — your absence 
benefit.” 

“You cannot suspect me of dishonorable designs on any in # 
mate here ?” he asked, in black rage. 

A slight, very slight smile of scorn passed over her lips. 

“Dishonorable?” she said, in that low, calm voice and with 
that air of looking down on him from a moral height that so out- 
raged the gentleman’s pride. “What you may choose to call 
your honorable designs, should they succeed, would cause more 
misery than your dishonorable — the fetters of your honorable 
designs would be more lasting than your dishonorable.” 

“Such sentiments are too foul tb be uttered under this roof ! I 
shall make known to the gentlemen relations of the lady of this 
house, the. false, colors you sail under. Pretended piety may 
impose upon inexperienced ladies, but men of the world know 
how to value it at its worth.” 

Not one word did the “Blaine girl”condescend to reply to this 
burst of rage, but she gave him a look more exasperating, be- 
cause more alarming than words would have been, then slowly 
and majestically she marched out of the room. 

Singleton felt beaten, he felt that he was groping in the dark ; 
lie did not know, how and why she was in Ashcourt, or how 
much, if anything, the -ladies knew of her story. He felt that 
he had made a mistake when he threatened to expose her; he 
dared not expose her, lest he might expose himself. Angry, 
balked, hemmed in, insulted by a creature he scorned and des- 
pised, our poor Singleton strode the library floor in no enviable 
frame of mind. 

“Oh, that I had her in a city! ’ he cried out, in the rage of his 
heart. “Oh, that I had her in a city ! City policemen know 
how to curb and quell insolent women of her class.” 

Unfortunately there were no policemen on the Island. 

This was Singleton’s last day at Ashcourt. If he meant to 
accomplish anything, he must find a chance that day. Remem- 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


235 


bering to have heard some one say that it was Roma’s custom 
always to be the first to come down to dinner, to amuse herself 
a lew moments at the piano without an audience, lie thought he 
would meet her and have the explanation over. Running up to 
his room, he made his toilet hastily, went' down arid ensconced 
himself in the bay window behind the curtain and waited. Fiom 
his position he commanded a view of the drawing-room door, 
through which lie looked, hoping to see the young lady come 
in ; he had not waited long before he heard approaching foot- 
steps. His heart beat violently, one might almost have ima- 
gined that a tremendous love agitated.it. Perhaps after all, we 
may call the feeling that led him on, Love, if not of the woman, 
at least of the money. The pursuit of money may be as agitat- 
ing as the' pursuit of a woman. The footsteps came gently, slow- 
ly on, they reached the door, but, to Singleton’s disgust, they 
were not the footsteps of the one he expected. The tall, slim 
old maid, the ^ Sister of Perpetual Toil ' ’ stood in the door a min- 
ute, her pale, thin face wearing a perplexed look, as if hesitat- 
ing whether to come in or go on. Deciding on the former, she 
came' slowly forward; straight on toward the bay window, whose 
occupant broke out in a cold sweat of fear lest she should bear 
down upon him and give him her charming society. However, 
she stopped short of that overt act; paused at a sofa which sat 
in front of the bay window, gently dropped herself upon it, giv- 
ing Singleton a full view of the back of her chaste and snow- 
white muslin cap, ornamented with lilac bows and strings. 

What an em harassing position for a fastidious gentleman ! 
Singleton hesitated whether to rush out or remain. Should he 
pursue the former course, politeness would compel him to speak 
a few words to Miss Susan. She would be sure to ask him about 

the ride and how he had left Daddy Dick. D n Daddy Dick ! 

He was in no humor to play the polite to ghostly old maids. So 
he remained perfectly still in the faint hope that the. old lady 
would tire of solitude and betake herself to the flower garden, 
usually her favorite resort. While thus waiting and hoping, 
other footsteps came along the lia.ll, heavier than Miss Susan’s, 
evidently these were made by male feet. Their owner also 
stopped at the drawing-room door and looked in and our hidden 
friend had full view of the round, ro,sy-faced old gentleman, 
whose round, bald head had a thin fringe of red hair. Mr. Wid- 
gerly stood a moment or so, benevolently beaming down the 
drawing-room in the direction of the old maid, then waddled up 
on his short legs and settled himself on the sofa by Miss Susan’s 
side. 

The lilac ribbons fluttered. Was it agitation or age that made 
them tremble ? Mr. Singleton had a charming view, not only 
of the back part of Miss Susan’s muslin cap, but a back view of 
Mr. Widgerly’s bald head and fringe of red hair In his present 
state of mind, the two views were not particularly enlivening to 
Mr. Arthur. Could he have fled without being seen, he would 


236 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


have rushed off without ceremony. 

The two old people began to talk. 

“My dear Susan,” said the old gentleman, the beads of mois- 
ture breaking out on his benevolent old smooth sconce. “My 
dear Susan, I have come for my answer. I’m quite impatient, 
my dear. I’ve no time to lose. What do you say, dear Susan ?” 

“Oh, dear me ! — dear me ! Mr. Widgerly, I’m so surprised — 
so very much surprised — ” replied the old lady in modest con- 
fusion, her lilac bows trembling with virgin timidity. Sixty 
five and never before an offer ! Sixty-five and never before a 
declaration of love ! Is it any wonder that withered old maid 
was too amazed and astonished to speak decidedly ? 

“Say ‘yes,’ Susan ; only say ‘yes’,” urged her ancient lover, 
tenderly circling his lady-love’s virgin waist, with one short, 
stubby arm. “Say ‘yes’, my dear, and it won’t seem so surpris- 
ing. You’ll get used to it, my dear, — you will, indeed. There’s 
nothing like being used to a thing to make it go easy, you may 
depend, my dear.” 

Singleton began to think that they were two escaped old lum 
atics. The lilac bows fluttered, the fervent old lover pressed 
his beloved close to his side, while she murmured softly. 

“But it’s all so wonderful, Mr. Widgerly — so very wonderful ! 
I don’t know what to think ! I really don’t — I don’t know w 7 hat 
to do. It’s all so strange, so very strange. Perhaps I am dream- 
ing ! I’ll wake up presently and find myself sewing in my own 
little room.” 

“No you won’t, Susan, not a bit, my dear ! No, you’ll wake 
up and find yourself in Widgerly house and looking after your 
old man’s comforts, my dear. That’s what you’ll do ; make his 
coffee for him, chat with him when he’s eating. ' My girls are 
all married and gone, my dear. I’ll take care of you and you’ll 
take care of me — mutual benefit, mutual happiness, my dear. 
Say ‘yes’, only say ‘yes’, and we’ll both be settled comfortably 
in Widgerly place before the week’s out.” 

“Why, La ! Mr. Widgerly, to-day’s Friday. We couldn’t 
do it so soon as that?” 

Then the unhappy Singleton heard a resounding noise that 
resembled the popping of a champagne bottle, and soon after- 
ward he saw the two old lunatics clasp hands and trot out of 
the room and out of the house for a sentimental stroll among the 
flowers. Singleton watched them through the window and saw 
the old male lunatic pluck a red peony and present it to the 
ancient lady of his love, as gallanfly as if the twain yet walked 
in the enchanted land of youth and poesie,and the pale old maid 
pinned the peony to the white muslin kerchief that crossed her 
virgin breast, and then the two old lovers strolled on hand in 
hand, to the wonderment and disgust of the handsome Single- 
ton who begun to fancy he had come to an enchanted Island, 
where all the laws of iife and customs of society were reversed, 
where the old make love, and the vile preach purity, and elegant 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


237 


gentlemen are at a discount, and of no force in the world. As 
no opportunity for speaking in private to Roma presented itself 
on this last day, Singleton wrote a note requesting an interview, 
and dispatched it by Damon. 

To-morrow, after breakfast , in the Library was the penciled 
r< W> which the gentleman thought to the point if laconic. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

AN INTERVIEW AT LAST. 

The Ashcourt guests expected to leave immediately. Horses 
and carriages were at the door. Mr. Widgerly took a tender 
leave of Miss Susan, who really seemed to be growing fond of 
the idea of pouring coffee, and turning down the bed-cover, etc., 
for her old suitor. While they all stood on the verandah taking 
leave, Singleton remained apart, meditating on the coming in- 
terview, how best to manage it, what to say, what to do, etc. 
Suddenly Madame Thebideaux was close by his side. 

/ ‘Do you leave the Island to-day, Mr. Singleton ?” she asked, 
with that serene, complacent air that Singleton fancied came 
from self-righteousness and impudence. 

Pie started back too indignant to reply in words, his eyes and 
contracted brow spoke his resentment. But neither the anger 
in the eyes or on the brow, in the least disturbed the serenitv of 
“Blaine’s girl.” 

“I suppose,” she said, “that the interview you are to have 
with Miss Charlmonte will decide your movements ?” 

Had Singleton given way to his feelings, he would have slain 
her on the vSpot. 

“What do yau know of any interview ?” he asked, in a low 
tone of suppressed rage. 

“Miss Charlmonte mentioned it.” 

“You tried to poison her mind against me ?” 

“I have said nothing yet. I hope there will be no need of sa v- 
ing anything,:” was her enigmatical reply, after which she walk- 
ed away. 

Roma came in from bidding her cousin, Constance, adieu at 
the carriage door. 

“Now, Mr, Singleton,” she said, frankly, smiling in his hand- 
some face, “I am at your service. Shall we go into the library, 
or stay here on the porch .-?” 

The porch,?- When there, not ten feet distant, was “Blaine’s 
girl” ! 

Singleton felt that he was badly treated. 

“If it is all the same to you, Miss Charlmonte,” he replied, 
stiffly, “we will go in the library.” 

He had asked for a private interview and she proposed the 
porch ! Was this indifference or affectation ? They went into 
the library. 


238 


BLACK AM) WHITE. 


At last — at last he was alone with the girl. The moment for 
which he had waited and watched for three days had come, and 
now, strange to say, his confidence, his courage, his hopes, were 
almost gone. So severely had he been tried, so continually 
crossed, so deeply vexed; that his presence of mind, his grace- 
ful ease and elegance of manner for which he was so distinguish- 
ed did not come to his aid. Miss Charlmonte’s clear, calm eyes 
were fixed upon his confused face, his pained and paling face. 
As he did not speak, she begun by hoping that he had not found 
the Island so very dull. After the gayeties of the city, she 
feared he had found country life rather monotonous. This gave 
him the cue. Singleton broke out with genuine emotion. Did 
she think she had treated him kindly — generously ? She very 
well knew that he had come to see her and her alone ; had she 
not systematically avoided him ? She had wounded him by her 
indifference or dislike, whichever it was. His devotion, his 
deep, undying love surely deserved some litttle consideration 
from her. 

Ignoring the leference to Love and devotion, with an appear- 
ance of polite concern, Miss Charlmonte disclaimed any inten- 
tion of neglect. She and her mother had desired to make his 
visit pleasant, her mother would be deeply pained if any guest 
should leave Ashcourt, feeling that he had been inhospitably 
treated. Her mother’s delicate health and recent suffering must 
plead her pardon if Ashcourt had not been all it should be. 

This rather artful speech threw Singleton oft 1 the track which 
he had marked out to pursue. For a brief instant anger held 
him silent or rather he was so angry, he held himself silent to 
conceal it. When he did speak, it was not to make a love ap- 
peal but reproaches. Pale and trembling, he walked the floor 
as he talked. 

“This is but a part of the unkind system you have pursued 
sinfce my arrival ? What has changed you f I am not changed. 
Just as you left me, you see me now — as true, as loving ; you 
are not the same. You avoid me as if I were a viper. What 
have I done that you should so hate me ?” etc, and so on. 

To all of which the young lady listened with a calm face, 
looking at him with her clear, reflective eyes. 

“Really, Mr. Singleton,” she replied, when he paused, “you 
ask such remarkable questions — you take such odd fancies. " If 
I wished to avoid you, would I have induced Mama to have you 
here for three days ? If I looked upon you as a viper, would I 
have taken you in the carriage and talked with you by the hour? 
Do young ladies go out driving with vipers ? Besides, what 
possible reason can I have for hating you? Do you think so 
badly of me as to suppose I would, for no cause, hate the broth- 
er of a lady who showed us so much kindness when we were in 
her city ? Do, I beg you, dismiss from your mind as a mor- 
bid dream, such unpleasant suspicions, and bid Mama a gra- 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


239 


cions farewell. Mama will be seriously hurt if she think* go 
from Ashcourt dissatisfied.” 

“She never got that letter ,” was the one consolatory idea that 
her speech brought him, “she never got it or she would not ask 
what possible cause there was for hatred — some wptaejfi would 
have seen in that letter cause enough for anger and hatred. 
Then arose the disturbing question, what had so changed the 
girl if not the letter? That she was changed he could not doubt. 
It is human nature to respect what is difficult to gain. Had this 
girl been madly in love with Singleton, had she been powerless 
to resist his commands and persuasions, he would have been as 
careless as she, but to see her standing there serene, pol’te, slim, 
graceful, elegant, unattainable, Singleton almost felt as though he 
were really in love. Pretty well convinced that she had not 
received the letter he felt that he might refer to it with safety. 
Pie wanted to be satisfied on that one point ; he asked her if she 
had received his letter in reply to hers informing him that her 
grandfather’s will was not found? 

“Oh ! yes,” she replied carelessly, “it came in due time.” 

“You had it?” Singleton’s heart sunk. 

“Certainly. I should have replied but I saw no necessity — 
you did not expect a reply did you?” 

Then he broke out in explanations and declared the letter did 
not express his true feelings, it was written in a moment of mad- 
ness, he was hardly in his right mind, he had suffered severe 
losses himself, he loved her so passionately the thought of los- 
ing her crazed him, it was a false, foul letter, she should not per- 
mit it to turn her heart against him, etc., and so on. To all of 
which Roma listened with a calm, unmoved face — alas ! she had 
utterly lost faith in his truth. His anger, his pathos, his re- 
proaches, touched her no more than the over wrought acting of 
the buskined hero of the boards. She resolved to end this prof- 
itless and unpleasant interview*. 

“Pray,” she said with a gesture as if sweeping the subject 
away, “pray give yourself no concern, I beg you, about that let- 
ter, it was a very proper letter, I find no fault with it I assure 
you. Shall we now join Mama ? She is waiting to bid you fare- 
well before she retires to her room. Poor Mama has not yet re- 
covered her strength. Mama!” 

Walking to the door as she spoke she saw her mother and Wil- 
mer in the hall ; they both came to her call. 

“Mama, Mr. Singleton wishes to bid you adieu.” 

TaJlyrand and the carriage were at the door to convey Mr. 
Singleton to the village inn. 

“What is the matter with him, dear?” asked Roma’s mother 
as the carriage drove off, “he looked very strangely.” 

“Strangely, Mama? I think everyone must admit that he is 
very handsome.” 

The poor man had not been able to conceal his chagrin, his bit- 
ter disappointment, nor was Wilmer able to conceal the in- 


2*40 BLACK AND WHITE . 

tense and deep delight the sight uf that disappointment gave 

him. 

“The past three days have proved a blessing — 1 feared they 
would proves a curse,” he said to Roma as they strolled out on 
the lawn looking toward the sea. 

‘•How a blessing ?” she asked softly for she felt the impas 
sioned glances cast upon her. 

“They have removed a lingering, tormenting fear, a fear which 
in spite of eveVy effort would come hack to me at times. I might 
beat it down one day and think I had killed it forever, up at 
some unexpected moment it would pop its hateful head and hiss 
at me.” 

“Do you — mean — snakes ?” 

“No, I mean something a million times worse than snakes. I 
mean the fear — the fear that you might care ever so little for that 
sleek, handsome fellow — such fears are ten times more torment- 
ing than adders or rattlesnakes.” 

“And you think now that I do not?” 

“1 know you do not — Oh ! Roma — ” 

The passionate pleading in his eyes went to her heart. They 
were in the vine covered summer house, roses and green leaves 
embowered them. lie drew her to his side, she did not resist, 
he looked into her dark eyes and saw something in their depths 
which answered to the yearnings of his soul and, all of a sudden, 
the universe expanded, all space became radiant with light, he 
clasped her close to his heart and the Paradise our first parents 
lost was regained at last by these two. Did she love him ? 
More than once Roma had asked herself this question in the last 
few months, not yet was it answered to her satisfaction. Of one 
thing she was quite sure, viz; that she* entirely approved of 
him. Mentally and morally he suited her. She respected his 
mind and had faith in his morals and believed in his tenderness. 
There are loves and loves. The poet says : 

“Few men find what, they love, 

Or could have loved, but accident, blind contact, 

And the strong necessity of loving, 

Hath removed antipathies. ” 

In this case there never had been antipathies to remove. Had 
Wilmer given evidence of his love before Singleton’s effort to 
win, the chances are the girl would never have indulged even a 
fancy for the handsome man. It is not so much masculine 
beauty that wins a woman’s heart as the power of masculine feel- 
ing. Some woman has. said that women yield more to the 
strength of their lover’s passion than to the power of their own. 
Nothing is more true. The severe training to which the civilized 
woman has been subjected makes the well-balanced woman more 
self-governed than the male of her kind ; she will not permit 
herself to love until she has reason to think she is beloved. 
Five pairs of our friends are destined to matrimony ; two already 
wear the yoke. Miss Susan and Mr. Widgerly, being the oldest. 


BLAOR AND WmfE. 


ui 

Wei‘6 iiatiihilty the post impatient, at least the gentleman was, 
he said he had no time to lose in waiting, so they were married 
two weeks from the day they met in Asheourt. It was a happy 
match, neither ever repented. Miss Susan’s days crept on as 
smoothly as a summer’s dream. Roma and Wifmer joined 
hands to walk side by side down the vale of life. Mrs. Chari - 
monte learned to love her son-in-law almost as much as she did 
her daughter. Wilmer, believing the law unjust in its dealing 
with woman, refused to avail himself of the power given a lius^ 
band over his wife’s property. He had a contract drawn up set- 
tling every dollar of her inheritance on Roma and signed it be- 
fore marriage. Shortly after their marriage Roma, without con- 
sulting her husband, conveyed to him the absolute right to one- 
fourth of the Asheourt estate, which was one-half of her portion. 
Roma always considered that exactly half, in equity, belonged to 
her mother although the legal title vested in her. 

The fifth pair is made of the handsome Arthur and the happy- 
hearted widow Tubinger. As this couple are such favorites we 
shall more parctiularly describe their wedding. 

Mrs. Singleton, having very little hope that her brother would 
succeed in his Southern scheme, bent her energies to the task of 
keeping the widow in a good humor. She represented that her 
brother had been hurried off on very disagreeable business— try- 
ing to secure a large sum of money due him of which he was 
about to be defrauded. He sent a world of love and begged not 
to be forgotten while gone. 

“The dear fellow !” cried the glowing and gratified widow, “as 
if I could forget him !” 

The fact is Mrs. Tubinger was perfectly happy in the delight- 
ful duty of getting up her wedding trousseau. She reveled in "fine 
things, the magnificent morning dresses, the divine dinner 
dresses, the heavenly evening dresses, the lovely laces, the rib- 
bons, shoes, gloves and all the hundred and one gewgaws that go 
to fit out a bride, filled her -days with such delightful ex^ 
citement she had no time to grow jealous or suspicious. That 
her lover did not write never disturbed her in the least. Mr. 
Tubinger had been a very indifferent correspondent, never writ- 
ing except on business, she herself thought one letter every six 
or seven months quite a job to get through. The first and only 
letter she had ev r received from her adored Arthur was the one 
declaring his passion and proposing marriage, as this was the 
composition of his sister it was a very effective production, and 
there was quite enough love in it to last the happy widow for some 
time. Whenever she felt like hearing from her fiancee she got 
that first and only letter out of the little box in which she kept 
it and read it over with a glowing face and gurgling spirits. As 
long as she had this on hand where was the use of another love 
letter? What more could another tell her? This was full of 
adoration, it satisfied her heart, it sufficed. She was happy in 
her wedding preparations, intending to have a grand wedding 


black and white 


242 


banquet and invite not only her city friends but all of her coun- 
try kin. Mrs. Singleton discouraged this idea as much as possi- 
ble, she knew that her brother, not at all proud of his bride, 
would hate publicity, the widow, however, would not change her 
programme. Mrs. Singleton looked for her brother’s return with 
some uneasiness his creditors were annoying, and she lived in 
daily dread that the widow would come to know the state of his 
affairs. 

At length, crest-fallen, dejected and pale, the poor fellow pre- 
sented himself hefore her. 

“Well Cathy,” he said with a sickly smile, “here I am ready 
to obey vrfem.” 

And it was time indeed, there was work to do, creditors to be 
appeased, the widow to be courted and kept in a good humor. 
When he heard of the proposed grand banquet and the coming 
of all the country kin, the three sisters from Canaan -four-corners 
with all their troops of children, he implored his sister to do her 
utmost to prevent the banquet, he said he felt far nrnre like hid- 
ing himself in a cave than presiding at a wedding supper for 
every fool to stare at and criticise. Mrs. Singleton did her 
best. 

“You see, my dear Amelia,” she said, “Arthur is so retiring — 
all authors are, he shrinks from promiscuous crowds, if you only 
ivill have fewer people, besides, my dear, don’t you know how it 
is with lovers ? He wants you all to himself ; indeed I heard 
him say only yesterday that he is never happy when he sees you 
surrounded by a crowd, he is so devoted to you, I dare say he’s 
a little selfish — all lovers are.” 

The widow was radiant. 

“Oh! the dear fellow — the dear, darling fellow!” she cried 
glowing all over with pleasure, “but he’ll have enough of me af- 
ter we’re married, I promise him that , he’ll have no cause to 
complain of me I warrant. But you see, dear, it’s too late now 
to go back on the supper, everything’s ordered and the invita- 
tions gone. You know, dear, I’d promised Sister Sharpe and 
Sister Blox and Sister Maddox, years ago I promised they should 
come to my wedding; it’s too late, too late to stop ’em now 
they’ve got their dresses all ready and new shoes for the chil- 
dren. If dear Arthur had only spoken in time — ” 

But dear Arthur had not spoken in time and so the banquet 
was a fixed fact. 

The wedding day dawned bright and beautiful. The morning 
papers came out with a flourisliing notice of a social event in 
high life ; the bride was pronounced the most accomplished and 
wealthy lady ir city, the bride-groom was an author of high 
repute, he had app"t several years in Europe acting as corres- 
pondent fci tl e English journals and was now engaged on a work 
of consideiabie size and importance. To this size had grown the 
little white lie manufac ured on the spur of the moment by his 
sister ana first told to the Island girl, afterward to the widow. 


black and white. 




rhe latter mentioned it confidentially to Mr. Huntitem, her 
nephew’s chum, who stated the fact in a local paragraph in the 
Courier from which it was reproduced in other papers until it be- 
came as well established as many other facts, or rather false- 
hoods. 

Mr. Puffington, in a tall stove-pipe hat and white gloves, drove 
the brother and sister to the Tubinger mansion. The latter felt 
a sweet calmness stealing over her at the prospect of having all 
her anxieties on poor Arthur’s account forever put to rest : she 
had never been tree from a haunting fear that something might 
turn up to make the widow break the engagement, now, she 
thanked Heaven, the danger was drawing to an end. As to poor 
Arthur he had the appearance of a martyr and remarked, with a 
gloomy brow, that he felt as if he were going to his own funeral. 
This vexed his sister, she reproved him sharply telling him 
there was not a better woman in the city than Amelia and she 
was so devoted to him ; he didn’t deserve his good fortune. 

“The devil of it is,” he sighed, “I’m not devoted to her.” 

“That’s a very small matter, you ought to be ashamed to com- 
plain in that way, you really ought, Arthur, ” returned his sister 
jerking at the carriage window to let it down, “How few women 
marry the men they’re fond of I’d like to know ? Is it any worse 
for a man than a woman ? Was I fond of Jack Singleton when I 
married him ? Father said Jack was a good match and I took 
him ; I suppose we were as happy as ordinary people.” 

“Jack was a very handsome fellow and a gentlemanly ; besides 
women are different from men, nobody expects women to have 
their own way about things and it’s blamed hard on me, say 
what you please it’s blamed hard — a great blowsy, frowsy, noisy 
widow. Then you know, Cathy, I never did intend to put my 
neck in the matrimonial yoke.” 

“You talk folly when you talk of yokes, you know very well 
it isn’t the man who wears the yoke, it’s the woman ; you know 
that the moment after you are married you are the master of 
your wife’s fortune ; you are an ungrateful fellow. What would 
you think if you were in Amelia’s place?” 

“I’ll be d d if I’d be such a fool as to marry! What fools 

women are anyhow.” 

“If you profit by their folly you should have the decency to 
stop complaining/ She’ll make you a good wife.” 

“Oh! bother!” 

The carriage stopped before the brilliantly lighted Tubinger 
mansion. A long row of carriages stood on the other side of the 
street. A little, suave mannered, keen eyed man met them at 
the door and ushered them in. Mrs. Singleton went up stairs to 
dispose of her wraps, her brother was shown into a sitting room 
in which were assembled all of the bride’s country kin, if Ca- 
naan -four-corners could be called country ; it was a village with 
two churches, two schools, one blacksmith shop and several gro- 
cery shops to say nothing of two shops in which were sold dry 


hack Atfb white, 


244 

goods by the yard and notions of all sorts. Mr. Blackstone Coke 
Sharpe, dressed in his own wedding suit which he kept for fes- 
tive occasions, introduced the little, suave mannered, keen eyed 
gentleman as his father, Solomon Sharpe, Esq., Lawyer from Oa- 
naan-four-corners. Then, as it seemed to the agitated bride- 
groom, he was introduced to an innumerable horde of Cauaan- 
tpur-cornerites. First there was the bride’s elder sister Mrs. 
Sharpe and her five daughters, the Misses Sharpe, aged all the 
way from fifteen up to thirty. After shaking hands with all 
these there came the bride’s younger sister Mrs. Blox, a big, 
bouncing, friendly-faced women between whom and the bride a 
strong family likeness existed. Mrs. Blox gave her new brother 
a resounding kiss; she had her youngest, a white headed, fat 
squab with staring blue eyes, in her arms and she coaxed it to 
“kissy-wissy its new unky-wunky” at the same time holding up 
to the fastidious gentleman the little white headed horror whose 
little, pug nose, none too dry, dipped in somewhere among his 
silky beard. The delicate Arthur had dreamed of purgatory but 
this surpassed all dreams. Sister Blox had done her duty to her 
country, seven other little Bloxes there were. Each and every 
little Blox was white headed and each and every little Blox had 
a round rosy face, ornamented with a pug nose and staring blue 
eyes. Each and every one of these delightful little creatures 
clung tightly to its mother’s skirts and stared at the new relation 
for the first time appearing before their vision, and each and 
every one was made to shake hands with the new relation in the 
most condescending and friendly' way. Mrs. Blox, in the charm- 
ing vocabulary she had invented for the benefit of her infant 
progeny, urged them to shake their “new unky-wunky’ hand,” 
the “new unky-wunkv” grew faint and dizzy and leaned on the 
mantle for support. 

“And here’s ^mother sister,” said the little old lawyer in a 
tone as sweet and suave as if he were bringing up another nug- 
get of pure gold to bestow on the happy bridegroom instead ol 
another fat, chunky, red faced sister-in-law. 

“Sister Maddox permit me to introduce you to Sister Amelia’s 
affianced,” said the little old lawyer suavely and sweetly, rub- 
bing his hands gently together as if he were washing them, “Sis- 
ter Maddox — Brother Singleton.” 

Sister Maddox shook her new brother’s hand with warmth and 
force. 

“A very presentable man, Brother Sharpe,” she said looking 
him over with an eye of approval, “very presentable, indeed ! if 
liis inwards be as well favored as his outwards, Brother Sharpe, 
he’ll do. I hope he’s fond of prayer-meetings, Brother Sharpe, 
Brother Tubinger was rather loose on prayer-meetings if you’ll 
remember, Brother Sharpe, rather a godless man was Brother 
Tubinger. Be you fond of the Lord’s house, Brother Singleton ?” 

Brother Singleton’s lips were white and his handsome brow 
broke out in beaded drops of agony as he gasped forth something 


BLACK AND WHITE . 245 

intended to imply that he was moderately fond of the house in 
question. 

Sister Maddox was not the only representative of the Maddox 
family present, the four Misses Maddox stood around their 
mother, waiting to be introduced to their new uncle. 

“Amelia Jane,” said Sister Maddox, calling to the eldest of 
her little flock, a stout rosy-cheeked lass of fourteen or fifteen, 
“come and kiss your Aunt Amelia’s new husband. Amelia 
Jane is sister Amelia’s namesake, Brother Singleton.” 

Amelia Jane performed the kiss. 

“Eliza Ann, shake hands with your new uncle. Sophrony, 
come forrered — don’t you see your uncle’s waiting to speak to 
you? Give your right hand, Sophrony. Show your manners, 
or your uncle will think you had no bringin’ up at all.” 

“Mary Amandy, come and kiss your uncle.” 

Mary Amandy was the youngest, and a fat little squab she 
was, with towy hair dragged up to the top of her head and tied 
in a pig-tail, something after the Chinese fashion. Mary Aman- 
dy was of a friendly disposition, and after she had bestowed a 
smacking kiss on the handsome bridegroom’s cheek, she showed 
a friendly desire to be on good terms with her new relative, clung 
around his legs, pulled at his fingers, calling him “Unky ! 
Unky !” 

Sister Blox and Sister Sharpe, with all the little Bloxes and 
all the grown up Sharpes stood around staring at the unhappy 
Arthur. Sister Sharpe saw his palor and attributed it to the 
sentimental occasion. She stood by him and fanned him with a 
turkey-tail fan. Sister Maddox offered to rub his head with 
vinegar if it ached, while Sister Blox thought if “Unky — wunky 
would hold baby — waby, and kissy — wissy its sweet ’ittle — wit- 
tie footsy — tootsy,” he’d feel better. 

Before the wretched Mr. Arthur had time to accept or reject 
Sister Blox’s delightful proposition, the bride sailed in, shining 
in white satin and lace and flowers and white kid gloves, and 
there was a general exclamation of delight and admiration 
from all the Canaan-four-Cornerites. 

“Time flies, my dear Amelia,” said the little old lawyer, 
laving his hands softly in the air. “Time flies, my dear ; if 
we mean to get married to-night, we must set about it. The 
company wait, the Bishop waits. Are we all ready now ?” 

“Oh, Pm all ready, brother Sol,” replied the bride in a loud, 
cheerful voice, squeezing the hand of her intended, which she 
had seized as soon as he came to her side. 11 Pm ready, brother 
Sol, but I don’t know whether Arthur is or not.” 

The tender glance and the tender squeeze which accompanied 
this little arch speech, was gallantly met by the groom, who 
murmured that he had been ready for the last six months. 

“Very well, then, my dears, since you are both ready, we 
may as well get it over,” said the suave-mannered little lawyar, 
in the softest of tones. “Step this way, my dear Amelia, he 


246 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


paper is ready for your signature.” 

The little old lawyer, stepping softly as a cat, led the way to 
a table in a distant corner of the room, on which were pen, ink 
and an open paper, with a rather formidable legal look about it. 

“The paper? Oh, the tiresome paper !” cried the bride, fol- 
lowing the little, old, keen-eyed lawyer and still holding, close- 
clasped in her large fleshy hand, the aristocratic digits of her 
lover. 

“What is it,” inquired Singleton, a sudden misgiving coming 
into his mind. 

“Oh, I don’t pretend to know. I never do understand law- 
business. Brother Sol attends to all that. I never bother, ex- 
cept to do what he tells me.” 

“Put your name here, my dear sir, right here ,” said the little 
old lawyer, as gently and sweetly as though he were asking the 
bridegroom to sign his name to a reciept for the gift of a brown 
stone mansion. You, being the gentleman,” said the little law- 
yer, persuasively, “must have precedence of the lady, — right 
here, my dear sir,” indicating with his forefinger, the exact spot 
on which he wanted the signature set. 

“What is it?” asked Singleton, a cold chill creeping down his 
back. 

“Merely a little formality, my dear sir,” replied the suave 
little lawyer, rubbing his hands gently, “merely a legal formal- 
ity — nothing more — nothing more, I assure you ; quite custom- 
ary on such occasions — quite. It only wants your two signa- 
tures — yours here, my dear sir ; Amelia’s here, just under it.” 

“I — I — I don’t quite undgrstand,” stammered Singleton, be- 
ginning to understand too well, the beaded drops of anguish 
breaking out like dew on his brow. Was the wealth for which 
he was striving so hard, about to elude his control ? Was he to 
be dependent on the bounty of his wife- instead of becoming the 
master of her fortune ? 

“Shall I read it to you, my dear sir, or will you glance over 
it, yourself?” asked the little lawyer, in dulcet whispering 
tones, smiling sweetly on the agitated bridegroom. 

“Oh, for gracious goodness sake, Brother Sol ! Don’t go and 
bother us now with your tedious law papers ! We’ll sign — sign 
anything, short of a death warrant, rather than hear read one of 
your everlasting law-papers. We’ll sign — we know it’s all right, 
if you say so — dont’t we, Arthur?” 

The bridegroom’s white face and sweat-beaded forehead, did 
not indicate any very strong conviction that all was right, on 
the contrary, one might imagine that he thought all was wrong, 
terribly wrong, woefully wrong. He took the paper in his 
trembling hand and fixed his dazed eyes upon its characters, but 
had each letter been disconnected from its fellows and dancing 
an independent jig on it’s own hook, he would have understood 
no less. At first glance, the letters seemed blurred in one in- 
distinct mass, then as he gazed intently, they began their jig- 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


247 


dancing, and the longer he looked, the more viciously alive they 
became. The legal phrases, first parties and second parties, and 
covenants and agrees and whereases and aforesaids — he gazed on 
until these horrid words became alive and began to crawl over 
the paper like hideous vermin, greatly to his confusion of mind: 
he became dizzy in head and weak in the legs. He shook like 
a leaf in the wind. 

“ Is it a marriage contract ?” asked his sister, who had just 
come in, and saw that something was wrong. 

“Something of that nature, my dear Madam — something, yes,” 
suavely replied the little keen-eyed lawyer, laving his hands 
gently in the invisible water. “Merely a formality, my dear 
madam — quite customary on such occasions ; quite in conform- 
atory with established usages — quite.” 

“Is there any necessity for such a thing?” asked the sister, 
bravely bent on brow-beating the lawyer and putting aside the 
paper. “Surely,” she added, with sarcasm, “if a lady is will- 
ing to trust herself with the man of her choice, she should not 
be afraid to trust what is of far less importance. It is a severe 
— a very severe reflection on Arthur — very severe and very un- 
kind.” 

“Not at all, my dear madam — not the least in the world ! 
There is no question of trust — none whatever ; my sister-in-law 
reposes the profoundest trust, the very profoundest trust in the 
gentleman of her choice.” 

“If Mrs. Tubinger has no confidence in me,” spoke up Mr. 
Arthur, stiffly, his sister’s bold air infused confidence in him, 
“she should not have accepted my hand. ThaVs the view I take 
of it. Very wounding to my feelings — very. A husband is the 
natural head of the family, as I have been taught to think.” 

“Very true — quite true. You put the case in very good form 
my dear sir, — very good indeed,” assented the little lawyer, in 
the most amiable way, smiling softly on his future brother-in- 
law. “No one can deny the point you make ; not at all — the 
law will bear you out, the law of God and' man, my dear sir, — 
fully. This paper, however, — ehem !■ — as I take it, does not 
militate against any marital right, contemplated by the law. Not 
at all ; the law, my dear sir, is extremely careful of the marital 
rights of husbands— extremely indeed. This pape.r is, however, 
(laying his fore-finger tenderly and lovingly on the paper) mere- 
ly a legal formality, quite customary, indeed, necessary on such 
occasions.” 

The little old lawyer looked as benevolent and amiable as if 
he were bestowing a fortune on the couple. 

“But why the necessity?” persisted Mrs. Singleton, with a 
darkening brow. “I see no necessity.” 

“Precisely, my dear madam, quite to be expected of a lady — 
very much so of a lady not acquainted with the forms of law ; 
you see, my dear madam, only legal minds are quite up to the 


248 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


forms and phrases, technicalities and equities of the law. Ladies 
not to be supposed — by no means — the fair sex — ” 

“Had there existed an y necessity for this sort of thing/*’ said 
Mrs. Singleton, with a still darker shade on her brow, the white 
dints showing themselves around her nost.iils, “we, my brother 
I mean, should have been informed of it before this. To spring 
a paper like that on us — on my brother, at this late moment is 
certainly very trying to his feelings.” 

“What if I refuse to sign it ?” asked Mr. Arthur, with a confi- 
dent look. 

“As you please, my dear sir,” suavely, laving hu hands, “of 
course, not the slightest compulsion — exactly as you please.” 

Mrs. Singleton fancied she saw in the little lawyer’s eyes a 
twinkle of satisfaction at the prospect of her brother’s refusal. 
She turned to the bride. 

“My dear Amelia, is this done by your direction ? Have you 
no confidence in the man you love enough to marry ?” 

“In Arthur ? (with open-eyed frankness). Do you mean Arthur? 
Of course, I have every confidence in the world in Arthur. 
Would I marry him if I had not ? Good Gracious, no !” 

“If you have the confidence ; if you trust him as a gentleman 
— you know him better than your relations, Amelia, you know 
how long he has been devoted to you ; your trust is all that is 
necessary. Will you permit Arthur to be tortured at such a time 
as this?” 

“I don’t know — what do I know of law things ?” replied the 
widow, with open-eyed innocence. “I never know, — Brother 
Sol does all that.” 

“Then, my dear Amelia, I’m sure that Arthur is glad to hear 
you say so. I did not believe it of you. You are too true a wo- 
man to distrust the man who adores you.” 

“Lord! Cathy, don’t talk so solemn as if I was to blame! 
You make me feel as if — as if poor, dear Arthur was about to be 
hung, or something dreadful, and I was to blame ! What odds 
will it make if Arthur signs that tiresome paper ? Don’t blame 
me if it has to be signed. Could I help Mr. Tubinger’s going 
and putting that foolish thing in his will? If Arthur wants me 
to lose all the property that Mr. Tubinger left me, rather than 
sign a foolish paper, all right, I’m willing. I can stand poverty 
if he can, but I’m sure it’s much nicer to have plenty of money. 
I’d like to keep it just on Arthur’s account. I want Arthur to 
have plenty of money.” 

The keen-eyed little lawyer with the suave manners, smiled 
pleasantly at this little speech, rubbed his hands gently and 
looked inquiringly from the brother to the sister and the sis- 
ter to the brother. 

His son, Blackstone Coke Sharpe, had stood by all this time 
a close, but silent observer, his bold, black eyes merrity watch- 
ing the progress of the game. 

“Ha!” he now burst out admiringly, “Rum, old brick!” 


BLACK AND WHITE. 


249 


which compliment was supposed to be intended for the defunct 
Tubinger. 

“Do I understand you to say,” asked Mrs. Singleton, with in- 
creasing anxiety, “that the late Mr. Tubinger required such a 
paper as that to be signed before his widow can marry ?” 

“Ask brother Sol. Brother Sol knows all about it. Brother 
Sol says unless we both sign, we’ll lose every piece of my prop- 
erty, but if Arthur would rather not — ” 

“Of couse not, my dear, we didn’t understand, if it was dicta- 
ted by Mr. Tubinger it can’t be helped, it wasn’t the signing 
that troubled Arthur, it was the distrust, Amelia, that hurt his 
feelings.” 

Feeling that there was no retreat the paper was signed and 
the bride, perfectly radiant, leaning on her handsome Arthur’s 
arm, sailed into the grand drawing room where the Bishop in his 
robes waited ready to tie the knot. 

A buz of admiration greeted their entrance. Some of the la- 
dies thought the bridegroom was just too handsome, and some 
thought the bride’s dress too lovely. The supper was indeed a 
feast, the kin from Canaan-four-corners were lost in wonder and 
amazement at its ahundance and luxury, and enjoyed themselves 
to the highest extent. After the ceremony was over Mrs. Single- 
ton cleared her brow of its shadow and gave herself up to the 
business of being agreeable ; later on, feeling tired out, she re- 
tired to the little dressing room where she had left her wraps, 
and lay down on the couch to rest a moment or so before going 
home." The door was open that led into the next room which 
was the bridal chamber, elegantty fitted up and lighted brilliant- 
ly ; Mrs. Singleton was in the dark. She had not been many 
minutes alone before voices in the bridal chamber arrested 
her attention. She recognized the voices as those of the two 
Sharpes, father and son. 

“Ha!” said the son looking around, “grand style! tip-top fur- 
niture! Aunt Mely don’t mind money.” 

“Very neat, very neat indeed,” said the less exuberant 
father. 

“I’ll be hanged, though, if I didn’t begin to think that the 
thing would all be off and there’d be no need for a bridal cham- 
ber to-night at any rate,” said the son. 

“Yes, it kinder looked that way at one time,” assented the 
father. 

“It went devilishly against his grain to sign that paper, hang 
me! if I didn’t think he’d refuse outright. If he had, what would 
Aunt Mely have done? Would she have gone on without it ?” 

“Not she — not she.” 

“But she’s awfully fond of him, would she let him go?” 

“She’s fond of him, yes, but she’s fond of her money too. 
Your Aunt Mely’s no fool, she’s one of the sharpest business 
women I know, she’s willing to give her husband a good living, 
but she means to hold the purse, your Aunt Mely knows the 


250 


BLACK AND WHITE . 


power of the purse as well as anyone. She’s heard that the fel- 
low’s a gambler, she’ll never be fool enough to give her property 
to the management of a gambler.” 

“Ha!” said the young fellow, “I didn’t know Aunt Mel}'’ was 
so sharp. The female mind — ha!” 

“You needn’t fancy your aunt is blind, she sees well enough, 
but never lets on. That was a shrewd dodge of hers, that — lay- 
ing the whole thing on poor old dead and buried Tubinger.” 

“You don’t mean to say — ” 

“Yes I do mean to say she got that up on the spur of the mo- 
ment.” 

“Ha! you astound me — the female mind — who would have 
thought it ? — ha ! — ” 

“Well perhaps after all,” sighed the weary sister of the bride- 
groom after the Sharpes were gone, “perhaps it is best so — Ar- 
thur needs to be restrained. And to think she is sharp enough 
to deceive ?ng.” 


THE END. 


Memphis, Tenn. : Printed by the Free Trader Company. 








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A POWERFUL NO YE L.— London Saturday Review. 


THE MASTER OF RED LEAF, 

By K. A. Meriwether. 

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CRITICAL NOTICES OF “THE MASTER OF RED LEAF”— 

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0 

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BLACK AND WHITE 

A NOVEL 


BY 

E. A. MERIWETHER, 

AUTHOR OF “THE MASTER OF RED LEAF,” “MY FIRST AND LAST LOVE,” 

“KU KLUX KLAN,” ETC., 


JfEW YORK, 


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